I 

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Entered  at  the  New  York  Post-Office  as  second-class  matter. 


No.  46. 

May  80,  1892. 


UC-NRLF 


^B    317   bSl 


\i  " 


THE  FRONTIERSMEN, 


BT 


GUSTAVE    AIMARD. 


-V. 


lit 


•^^-^^ 


!■       fl 


NEW    YORK  : 

THE  F.  M.  LUPTON  PUBLISHING  COMPANY, 
Nos.  72-76  Walker  Street. 


THE  FRONTIERSMAN. 


A  NOVEL. 


iY  GUSTAVE   AIMARD 


NEW  YORK: 

THE  F.   M.  LUPTON  PUBLISHING  COMPANY, 

Nos.  72-TG  Walker  Street. 


.  •  •  •  ,• 

• ,  •  •  "••  * 


ftitered  according  to  Act  of  Coagress,  !■  the  year  1854,  bif 
STRINGER  &  TOWNSEND, 
I  te  Clerk's  Office  of  the  United  States  District  Court  for  the 
DUtrict  of  New  York. 


THE  FRONTIERSMEN. 


CHAPTER,  I: 


INTRODUCTORY.'  "   '  ''-•-•'*      ^  ^  '•''*..*  '*. 


Im  the  year  1783,  Western  New  York — or  at  least  what  wis 
then  deemed  Western  New  York — was  an  almost  unbroken 
wilderness,  scarcely  known  to  the  inhabitants  of  the  eastern  and 
south-eastern  portions  of  the  State ;  although  the  greater  part 
of  that  large  tract  of  territory  then  known  as  Tryon  County, 
was  especially  an  unexplored  country.  It  is  true  that  occasion- 
ally some  adventurous  pioneer  had  penetrated  the  wilderness, 
and  endeavored  to  form  for  himself  and  family  a  home,  where, 
if  he  could  not  enjoy  the  luxuries  and  comforts  to  be  found  in 
more  populous  sections,  he  could  at  least  be  freed  from  many  of 
the  evils  incident  to  the  growing  settlements  and  cities.  Some 
there  were,  who  had  not  these  inducements,  but,  moved  by  a 
spirit  of  hardy  enterprise,  and  with  a  love  for  the  excitements 
and  dangers  of  a  pioneer  life,  penetrated  the  wilderness  alone, 
with  no  companion  but  the  rifle — a  sure  and  steadfast  friend 
amidst  the  dangers  which  were  certain  to  beset  him. 

Thus,  an  adventurous  traveler,  whb  perhaps  fancied  himself 
the  first  white  man  who  had  ever  toiled  through  the  forests  of 
this  portion  of  the  State,  would  be  surprised  as  he  came  upon 
the  traces  of  civilization,  in  a  log  hut,  situated,  perhaps,  in  the 
midst  of  a  few  acres  of  partially  cleared  wilderness.  When 
such  happened  to  be  the  case,  it  would  be  no  occasion  for  won- 
der that  the  traveler  and  the  settler  became  at  once  acquaintances 
and  friends.  The  news  from  the  settlements — inquiries  for 
friends,  and  political  information,  would  gladly  be  exchanged 
for  the  homely  but  welcome  entertainment,  which  was  at  once 
provided. 

At  the  period  which  we  have  chosen  for  our  narrative,  the 
County  of  Tryon  was  inhabited  by  roving  bands  of  Indians, 
mostly  belonging  to  the  Six  Nations.  Some  favorite  localities 
were  selected,  which  might  be  deemed  peculiarly  the  homes  of 
these  bands;  although  their  roving  dispositions,  the  pursuit  of 
game,  or  hostile  encounters,  would  prevent  the  permanent  occu- 
pation of  any  ons  locality. 


970320 


10  TES      FR0KTIERSUBI7. 

That  portion  of  Tryon  County  with  which  the  reader  will  W 
oome  somewhat  acquainted  in  due  course  of  this  narrative,  waa 
more  especially  inhabited  by  that  division  of  the  Iroquois,  known 
as  the  Oneidas.  But  it  was  not  infrequent  that  bands  belonging 
to  other  tribes  of  the  confederacy  made  incursions  into  this  ter- 
ritory, in  pursuit  of  game,  and  occasionally  on  less  peaceable 
missions. 

<    It  is  wqII  l^Tiown  "that  during  the  "War  of  the  Revolution,  the 
'(Afferent  t'rib?^  ;(Kraippsing  the  confederacy  of  the  Six  Nations, 
'were  divided  in  th'eir 'choice  between  England  and  the  rebellious 
'.0<)l«hile6'.  •  *  l^hre  Oiiej^aS*  ijnd  a  part  of  the  Tuscaroras  and  Mo- 
'iidw^S,-Ji®her^d.  t^  t'ht?,  CpJonies,  while  the  other  three  nations  of 
the  confederacy  were  leagued  with  England,  under  Col.  Butler, 
and  the  notorious  Johnson.     It  was  under  the  former  officer 
that  the  Senecas,  principally,  aided  by  Tories,  perpetrated  the 
Massacre  of  Wyoming.     The  Onondagas,  at  first,  professed  neu- 
trality between  the  belligerent  parties;  but  as  it  was  believed 
that  they  aided  in  the  more  hostile  operations  of  the  Senecas,  a 
detachment  was  sent  from  Fort  Stanwix,  which  destroyed  their 
Tillages.     This  attack  was  revenged  by  assaults  upon  the  settle- 
ments of  Schoharie  and  the  western  borders  of  Ulster. 

During  the  war,  Tryon  County  contained  a  large  number  of 
Tories,  who  were  constantly  inciting  the  Indians  to  acts  of  hos- 
tility against  the  Colonies.  But  while  they  were  successful  with 
a  large  portion  of  the  Iroquois,  they  signally  failed  in  all  their 
attempts  to  abate  the  fidelity  of  the  Oneidas  and  Tuscaroras. 
This  division  in  the  councils  of  the  Six  Nations,  disturbed  the 
amity  which  had  previously  existed  between  the  confederated 
tribes;  and  the  bond  which  had  so  long  united  them,  was  sever- 
ed forever.  More  than  o-qpe,  were  the  Oneidas  driven  from  their 
Tillages,  and  compelled  to  seek  protection  from  the  whites ;  and 
parties  of  the  latter  tribe,  with  a  part  of  the  Tuscaroras,  actual- 
ly took  up  arras  against  their  ancient  brethren.  It  is  said  that 
the  notorious  Col.  Walter  Butler  was  killed  by  an  Oneida  Chief, 
during  his  flight  after  the  battle  of  Johnstown. 

At  the  time  embraced  by  our  narrative,  it  was  not  infrequent 
that  diflBculties  occurred  between  the  separated  parties  of  the 
•onfederacy,  and  hostile  encounters  took  place,  which  ended  in 
bloodshed.  Indeed,  the  successful  Colonies  had  not  concluded 
any  treaty  of  peace  with  the  Mohawks,  Onondagas,  Cayugas, 
and  Senecas,  until  October,  1784.  By  that  treaty,  those  tribes 
consented  to  a  release  of  prisoners,  and  also  to  a  cession  of  all 
their  territory  west  of  Pennsylvania. 

The  Six  Nations,  at  the  time  of  the  Revolution,  were  consider- 
ed the  most  formidable  of  the  Indian  warriors  to  be  found  on 
the  North  American  Continent ;  and  overtures  were  made  to 
them,  as  well  by  the  Congress  of  the  confederated  Colonies,  as 
Ij  the  English  Qovemment    The  overtures  of  the  latter  were 


tBB      FRO  NTIER8UE  IT.  II 

made  through  Col.  Guy  Johnson — successor  to  Sir  William^— 
and  through  the  great  influence  he  possessed  over  them,  he  was 
able  to  induce  them  to  take  up  arms  against  the  peaceable  and 
scattered  inhabitants  of  the  frontier.  The  number  of  Indians 
of  the  Six  Nations  who  actually  took  up  arms  in  favor  of  Great 
Britain,  is  estimated  at  about  1200.  The  whole  number  of  In- 
dians, of  all  tribes,  who  were  employed  by  the  British  against 
the  Colonies,  was  estimated  by  Captain  Dalton,  (Superintendent 
of  Indian  Affairs  in  1783.)  at  12,G90. 

The  histories  of  the  time,  relate  the  terrible  sufferings  endured 
by  the  inhabitants  of  Tryon  County.  The  valleys  of  the  Scho- 
harie, the  Mohawk  and  the  Susquehanna,  were  swept,  year  after 
year,  by  the  Indians;  villages  were  burnt — and,  without  dis- 
crimination of  age  or  sex,  the  whites  who  were  supposed  to  be 
favorable  to  the  Colonial  cause,  were  massacred.  These  events 
gave  rise  to  the  expedition  of  iGen.  Sullivan  into  the  Onondaga, 
Cayuga  and  Seneca  country,  which  was  overrun  and  laid  waste; 
and  it  was  hoped  that  the  Indians,  having  lost  their  provisions 
and  stores,  would  cease  their  incursions  upon  the  border  settle- 
ments. But  all  such  hopes  were  vain;  the  depredations  were 
renewed,  and  continued  until  the  end  of  the  war.  It  is  said  by 
the  author  of  the  Life  of  Brant,  that  '•  two  years  before  the  close 
of  the  war,  one-third  of  the  population  had  gone  over  to  the 
enemy — one-third  had  been  driven  from  the  country,  or  were 
slain  in  battle,  and  by  private  assassination.  And  yet  among  the 
inhabitants  of  the  other  remaining  third,  in  June,  1783,  it  was 
stated  at  a  public  meeting  held  at  Fort  Plain,  that  there  were 
three  hundred  widows  and  two  thousand  orphan  children." 

The  country  which  is  the  immediate  scene  of  the  following 
narrative,  was  little  known  in  the  time  of  the  Revolution.  The 
maps  of  the  period  designated  it  as  Indian  country,  and  as  an 
unexplored  region.  The  Tienaderack,  or  Unadilla  River — one  of 
the  tributaries  of  the  Susquehanna — is  given  as  the  western 
boundary  of  the  whites,  beyond  which  are  the  villages  and 
hunting-grounds  of  the  Oneidas  and  Tuscaroras.  It  is  into  this 
unexplored  region  that  we  propose  to  conduct  the  reader.  We 
cannot  promise  a  strict  fidelity  to  truth,  in  the  precise  incidents 
related  in  our  narrative,  but  they  have  kindred  features  in  nar- 
ratives related  by  the  ancient  settlers  of  this  valley.  There  are 
traditions,  well  authenticated,  which  might  give  rise  to  many  of 
the  incidents.  With  this  general  view  of  the  condition  of  Tryon 
County,  at  the  time  of  the  Revolution,  we  will  conduct  the 
reader  to  that  portion  of  it  in  which  we  are  more  immediatelj 
is  teres  ted. 


19  TIC      FB0NTIIR8MIV. 


CHAPTER    II. 

*  Hath  not  old  custom  made  this  life  more  sweet 
Than  that  of  painted  pomp  1    Are  not  these  wood* 
More  free  from  peril  than  the  envious  court  1 
Here  feel  we  but  the  penalty  of  Adam — 
The  season's  difference." 

As  You  LiKB  IT. 

It  was,  then,  in  the  early  part  of  the  month  of  October,  1783., 
that  two  travelers  might  have  been  seen,  leisurely  wending 
their  way,  on  foot,  southwardly,  along  a  somewhat  narrow  val- 
ley, through  which  flowed  a  rapid  but  attractive  river.  That 
part  of  the  valley  which  was  now  in  their  view,  was  not  more 
than  half  a  mile  in  breadth.  On  the  west,  the  hills  were  low, 
and  presented  no  peculiar  attraction  to  the  eye.  On  the  east, 
however,  they  attained  a  loftier  height,  and,  in  the  golden  sun- 
shine which  fell  from  the  autumn  sky,  excited  the  surprise  and 
admiration  of  our  travelers.  From  the  position  they  occupied, 
they  could  trace  the  course  of  the  valley  for  some  six  or  seven 
miles,  among  the  hills,  which  became  bolder  and  loftier,  until  it 
was  lost  in  a  sudden  turn  to  the  westward.  The  river,  along 
whose  banks  they  had  traveled  for  some  ten  or  twelve  miles,  was 
here  from  four  to  six  rods  in  width;  and,  as  we  have  before 
observed,  was  attractive  by  the  rapidity  of  its  current  and  the 
frequent  but  graceful  curves  in  which  it  pursued  its  course. 
The  Indian  name,  which  this  river  now  bears,  implies  "the 
Pleasant  P^iver." 

The  forest  about  them  exhibited  much  variety  of  vegetation ; 
and  among  the  trees  which  they  observed,  they  saw  fine 
specimens  of  the  pine,  which  towered  above  the  surrounding  for- 
est, in  the  graceful  superiority  of  foliage  and  beauty.  The 
maple,  hemlock,  beech,  birch,  walnut,  and  chestnut,  were  abun- 
dant. It  was  at  just  the  season  of  the  year  when  the  leaf  of 
the  maple  wears  its^choicest  hue  of  red;  and  the  beech  and 
chestnut  assume  their  "  sere  and  j^ellow."  Blending  with  these 
varieties,  the  unfading  richness  of  the  evergreen,  it  would  excite 
no  wonder,  that  the  younger  of  our  travelers,  at  least,  beheld 
with  admiration  the  gorgeous  drapery  which,  in  this  climate, 
th^  forest  assumes,  preparatory  to  the  desolation  of  winter. 

The  younger  of  the  two  persons  to  whom  we  have  called  the  at- 
tention of  the  reader,  might  have  been  twenty-six  or  twenty-seven 
years  of  age.  Of  middle  stature,  he  exhibited  a  frame  of  much 
Sjmmetrj  and  power;  and  it  was  apparent  that  he  had  b««n 


THE       FRONTIERSMBir.  ISJT 

Inured  to  labors  which  had  fully  developed  health  and  strength. 
His  face  was  some  what  embrowned  by  exposure  to  the  weather; 
out  his  active  and  intelligent  eyes,  the  firm  compression  of  his 
lips,  and  the  ready  play  of  his  countenance,  as  he  listened  to  or 
answered  some  remark  of  his  companion,  made  it  apparent  that 
he  had  at  least  bestowed  some  labor  upon  the  cultivation  of  his 
mind ;  for  inward  discipline  and  culture  always  have  their  ef- 
fect upon  the  outward  bearing.  Besides  this,  there  was  in  his 
countenance  an  evidence  of  sincerity  of  purpose,  which  if  it  pur- 
sues but  one  path  to  attain  its  end,  and  that  frequently  an  U7i- 
comfortable  one,  always  triumphs  over  temporary  difiBculties. 
Ralph  Weston — for  that  is  the  name  of  the  young  traveler — was 
ever  honorable  and  upright,  even  where  worldly  '•  prudence" 
would  have  admitted  of  a  slight  departure  from  the  rigid  rules 
of  propriety.  He  was  not  of  that  modern  school,  which  makes 
exjyediency  the  touchstone  of  morality  of  conduct;  but  he  always 
disclaimed  the  artifices  to  which  men  too  frequently  resort  to 
hide  the  practices  which  are  well  enough  in  themselves,  but 
which  happen  to  contravene  popular  opinions  or  customs.  But, 
with  this  serious  turn  of  mind,  he  possessed  a  romantic  disposi- 
tion, which  frequently  led  him  into  acts  that  excited  the  surprise 
of  more  sedate  or  less  romantic  acquaintances ;  but  with  no  art, 
save  a  frank  disposition,  and  a  heart  of  sympathy  and  fiiendship, 
Ralph  Weston  always  found  '•  troops  of  friends"  to  whom  he 
was  little  less  than  what  we  propose  to  make  of  him — a  hero. 

Ralph  Weston,  then,  as  might  be  readily  supposed,  in  the  dark 
hours  when  the  Colonies  were  struggling  for  life,  embarked  his 
hopes  and  fortunes  in  the  cause  of  his  country.  At  the  age  of 
eighteen,  he  volunteered  as  a  private  soldier,  and  after  serving  a 
short  time  in  this  humble  capacity,  he  had  risen  in  rank,  until  at 
the  close  of  the  war,  he  held  the  commission  of  a  captain.  His 
maternal  aunt  (for  he  had  neither  father  nor  mother,  both  having 
died  in  his  infancy)  always  insisted  that  he  should  have  been  a 
general,  at  least;  and  perhaps,  if  merit  were  always  the  true 
test  of  advancement,  he  would  have  attained  a  much  higher  rank. 
But  while  he  was  always  foremost  in  danger,  he  was  ever  a  lag- 
gard in  the  ranks  of  those  who  press  eagerly  forward  for  the 
spoils  of  victory,  or  the  honors  which  are  more  often  worn  than 
deserved.  But  we  will  suffer  the  reader  to  become  more  inti- 
mately acquainted  with  him  as  we  proceed  in  our  history. 

His  traveling  companion,  however,  cannot  be  dismissed  with- 
out notice ;  for  Ichabod  Jenkins  (familiarly  called  "  Ike,"  by  his 
too-presuming  acquaintances)  had  no  small  idea  of  his  own  im- 
portance. At  the  time  when  he  appears  before  us,  he  cannot 
be  less  than  forty-seven  or  eight  years  of  age;  when  standing 
erect,  he  is  full  six  feet  two  in  stockings ;  but  as  he  generally 
appears  in  locomotion,  you  would  make  his  height  at  about  five 
feet  ten.    His  frame  was  not,  apparently,  robust,  and  a  strang«r 


24  THE      FRO  NTIEBSHSir. 

would  have  been  surprised  at  any  great  indication  of  strength 
on  his  part ;  yet  few  in  the  neighborhood  of  his  residence,  on 
any  public  occasion,  when  feats  of  agility  or  strength  wer« 
undertaken,  would  have  dared  to  match  him  in  ary  game  where 
these  qualities  were  necessary.  Yet  this  was  the  least  of  Icha- 
bod's  merits,  if  his  own  judgment  could  be  trusted. 

In  his  earlier  days,  a  long  struggle  had  taken  place  in  his  mind 
between  the  love  of  wealth  and  literary  pursuits.  He  recognized 
the  distinctive  antipathy  between  these  two  misresses ;  yet 
neither  of  them  had  ever  acquired  a  complete  victory  over  the 
other  J  so  he  had  compromised  between  them  by  uniting  a  course 
of  such  reading  as  could  then  be  attained  in  general  literature, 
with  a  strong  speculative  disposition,  which  desired  to  leap  at 
once,  and  by  one  bound,  from  rags  into  purple.  Now,  it  must 
be  confessed,  that  Ichabod  had  succeeded  about  as  well  in  one 
pursuit  as  in  the  other — and  to  which  of  his  mistresses  to  attri- 
bute his  ill  success,  he  did  not  know.  He  had  read  Mrs.  Brad- 
street's  poems,  who,  in  her  day,  was  styled  "  the  mirror  of  her 
age  and  the  glory  of  her  sex" — he  had  much  admired  the  poetry 
of  George  Wolcott,  but  he  was  completely  intoxicated  with  the 
"  Simple  Cobbler  of  Agawam,"  by  Nathanial  Ward,  although 
he  did  not  adopt  its  fanatical  se-atiments ;  the  Revolutionary  poets 
he  had  by  heart,  and  for  the  reputation  of  Freneau,  he  would 
have  abandoned  the  fame  of  iJhakespeare,  had  he  possessed  the 
power  of  choice.  He  had  at  one  time  secluded  himself  from  all 
of  his  acquaintances  for  a  month  or  two ;  and  at  last,  when  he 
emerged  from  his  solitude,  he  was  seen  with  a  quantity  of  manu- 
script, which  he  read  to  his  most  intimate  friends  with  exceed- 
ingly rhapsodical  gestures.  It  was  even  thought  that  this  manu- 
script had  been  offered  to  some  publisher,  but  as  its  contents 
whatever  they  were,  never  appeared  in  print,  it  was  well  under- 
stood that  it  had  been  rejected.  It  is  certain,  that  from  this 
time  he  abandoned  all  ideas  of  winning  a  literary  reputation,  and 
set  earnestly  to  work  to  win  the  fortune  of  which  he  had  so  long 
been  dreaming.  But  Ichabod,  with  an  innate  love  for  the  jingle 
of  rhyme,  could,  even  at  this  day,  repeat  enough  of  the  lyrical 
poetry  of  the  country  to  endanger  the  patience  and  temper  of  his 
warmest  friend. 

After  attempting,  at  Boston,  many  schemes  for  the  sudden 
acquisition  of  wealth,  which  had  all  resulted  in  failure,  he  had, 
some  time  previous  to  the  war,  shaken  off  the  dust  of  the  (to  him) 
unprosperous  city,  and  traveled  westward  in  search  of  a  more 
congenial  spot,  where  the  resources  of  his  mind  could  be  de- 
veloped. 

He  had  JinaCty  located  at  one  of  the  frontier  settlements  in 
the  State  of  New  Yprk — a  small,  but  growing  place — and  unen- 
cumbered by  wife  or  family,  he  fancied  himself  certain  of  succesi 
•t  last    He  h&d  at  one  time  taken  a  trip  to  the  shores  of  Long 


Tils      ^.RONTIEBSMBir.  15 

Island  Sound,  for  the  puqwso  of  making  inquiry  as  to  the  pros- 
pect of  realizing  anything  from  the  buried  money  of  Capt.  Kidd ; 
but  he  returned  somewhat  poorer  than  he  left.  One  time,  while 
wandering  on  the  shore  of  a  small  creek,  in  his  own  neighbor- 
hood, devising  means  for  the  expenditure  of  his  wealth  when  it 
should  be  obtained,  he  was  suddenly  arrested  by  the  glitter  of 
some  fine,  shining  particles,  in  the  sand.  Certain  that  he  had  at 
length  discovered  a  gold  mine,  the  land  was  purchased  by  him 
on  contract,  at  an  extravagant  price,  by  turning  out  what  little 
money  and  few  valuables  he  possessed.  His  mysterious  appear- 
ance and  conduct,  attracted  towards  him  the  attention  of  the 
whole  settlement ;  it  was  whispered  that  he  was  always  ^ut  of 
his  boarding-house  at  night,  and  that  he  invariably  slept  a  por- 
tion of  the  day.  He  had  been  heard,  too,  to  hint,  in  a  solemn 
manner,  of  his  taking  up  his  residence  at  Boston  or  New  York, 
and  of  building  half  a  dozen  blocks  of  brick  buildings,  and  living 
in  a  style  of  splendor  that  should  astonish  his  early  acquaint- 
ances, who  had  always  enviously  predicted  that  he  would  never 
amount  to  anything.  The  consequence  was,  that  after  much 
managing  and  prying,  Ichabod's  mine  was  discovered,  and  the 
whole  settlement  rushed — men,  women  and  children — to  share 
his  good  fortune.  Trespass  suits  followed  thick  and  fast,  and  at 
length  it  was  discovered  that  the  glittering  particles  which  had 
been  gathered  so  eagerly,  were  worth  just  as  much  as  the  sand 
in  which  they  were  imbedded,  and  no  more.  The  result  of  this 
speculation  was.  that  Ichabod  lost  both  his  gold  and  his  land, 
and  the  little  money  he  had  previously  possessed. 

But  nothing  disheartened,  other  schemes  filled  his  mind ;  and 
he  was  always  the  surest  of  success,  just  as  he  was  the  most 
certain  to  be  unsuccessful.  Ichabod  was  altogether  too  busy  in 
his  financial  operations  to  volunteer  as  a  soldier  during  the 
Revolutionary  War,  although  he  had  cast  around  earnestly  to 
ascertain  if  there  was  any  way  by  which  he  could  make  his 
business  and  patriotism  harmonize  together.  But  while  he  had 
refused  to  sacrifice  his  chances  of  a  fortune  by  taking  up  arms  as 
a  soldier,  to  his  credit  be  it  said,  that  in  the  frequent  Indian  in- 
cursions which  had  been  made  on  the  frontier  settlements  of 
New  York,  he  had  zealously  engaged  in  the  plans  of  defense,  and 
had  won  an  enviable  notoriety  as  an  Indian  fighter.  Always 
cool  and  calculating,  he  never  suSered  himself  to  be  surprised ; 
and  he  came  at  last  to  be  dreaded  by  the  Indians,  as  bearing  a 
charmed  life,  which  could  not  be  taken.  More  than  one  Seneca, 
who  had  escaped  from  his  rifle,  bore  the  marks  of  his  bullets ; 
and  his  name  was  never  mentioned  by  them  but  with  a  look  of 
hatred.  This  feeling  was  cordially  reciprocated ;  and  even  a 
lucky  chance  at  a  fortune  could  scarcely  have  deterred  him  firom 
an  attack,  even  in  a  time  of  peace,  upon  an  Onondaga,  Oayugii 
or  Seneca. 


16  THE      PEONTIER^ka H. 

But  with  the  return  of  peace,  all  ideas  or  war  had  vanished, 
and  he  now  felt  that  it  was  necessary  to  make  a  desperate  effort 
for  the  fortune  which  had  been  so  long  delayed.  But  it  was 
necessary  to  possess  some  little  capital ;  and  with  the  view  of 
laying  the  foundation  for  the  capital  desired,  he  had  embraced 
the  opportunity  of  guiding  Ralph  Weston  on  his  journey,  which 
was  now  nearly  completed.  He  also  had  an  idea  about  a  specu- 
lation which  he  wished  to  look  after  ;  bat  of  that  hereafter. 

Armed  with  a  rifle,  which  had  been  his  constant  companion 
in  his  encounters  with  the  Indians,  and  with  a  hunting-knifp 
which  he  wore  in  a  leathern  belt,  it  would  have  been  diflBcult 
for  a  stranger  to  have  pronounced  his  vocation.  There  was  little 
in  his  figure  or  appearance  which  would  have  indicated  the  habits 
of  a  borderer  of  the  period,  yet  one  would  scarcely  have  ventured 
to  guess  at  any  other  calling  or  profession. 

His  hair,  which  was  long  and  straight,  and  originally  of  a 
brownish  color,  had  become  grizzly,  and  flowed  from  under  his 
cap  without  order  or  regularity.  His  face  was  embrowned  by 
long  exposure  to  the  extremes  of  weather,  while  its  expression 
had  a  rigidity  that  was  scarcely  ever  discomposed.  His  eyes 
were  of  a  grayish  cast,  and  seemed  always  to  be  on  the  alert,  to 
detect  dangers  that  might  threaten  either  his  person,  or  the  men- 
tal treasures  which  were  just  ready  to  be  coined. 

The  travelers  journeyed  in  a  sort  of  path,  which  had  evidently 
been  made  some  time  before,  but  which  had  been  little  used. 
Occasionally,  a  tree  that  could  not  be  avoided  had  been  felled, 
and  the  stump  wholly  or  partially  removed ;  and  often  the  path 
was  obstructed  by  the  trunk  of  a  decayed  tree,  which  had  fallen 
from  old  age,  or  had  been  overthrown  by  the  violence  of  the 
winds. 

"  Well,  Ichabod,"  said  Balph,  after  the  travelers  had  paused 
a  while  to  survey  the  valley  which  now  opened  upon  their  view, 
"  we  must  be  near  our  journey's  end.  From  the  indications  you 
gave  me,  we  cannot  be  more  than  a  mile  distant,  at  farthest." 

"  I  should  say  not,  Captain,"  replied  Ichabod ;  "  I  was  never 
hereabouts  but  once  before,  and  then  I  reckon  we  made  some- 
thing of  a  spec  in  the  way  of  Injins.  The  varmints  !  but  they 
are  a  long  way  off  now,  I  reckon." 

"  I  have  never  heard,"  said  Ralph,  "  that  any  battles  of  con- 
sequence were  fought  in  this  section  of  the  State.  This  region 
is  too  distant  from  the  settlements,  and  too  much  of  a  wilderness, 
to  have  been  the  scene  of  any  important  conflict." 

"  I  can't  say.  Captain,  how  important  it  may  or  mayn't  have 
been  to  the  country  at  large ;  but  this  I  do  calculate,  that  it  was 
mighty  important  to  them  that  had  the  fighting  on't.  Three 
Injrns  to  one  man,  sarfln ;  and  they  fought  like  devils,  as  thej  were, 
confound  'em !  Why,  Captain,  if  you'll  believe  it,  one  of  them  red 
rascals  and  I  ra'allj  had  a  pitched  battle  for  the  ownership  of  thii 


TEE      FRONTIERSMBM.  IT 

here  companion  of  mine,"  pointing  to  his  rifle ;  "  but  we  taught  the 
cussed  red-skins  better  manners.  We  don't  part  company  so 
easy ;"  and  Ichabod  grasped  his  rifle  with  a  still  firmer  hand ; 
and  then  half  said  and  half  sung,  from  the  old  ballad  of  "  Lot6« 
weU's  fight," 

"  *  For,  as  we  are  informed, 

So  thick  and  fast  they  fell, 
Scarce  twenty  of  their  number 
At  night  did  got  home  well.'  " 

'•  I  supposed,"  said  Ralph,  "  that  this  country,  through  which 
we  are  now  traveling,  was  in  the  posession  of  the  friendly  Onei- 
das  and  Tuscaroras  ?" 

"  Yes,  it  was  in  their  possession,"  answered  Ichabod,  "  except 
when  it  was  overrun  by  those  devils  of  Senecas  or  Onondagas 
and  that  was  pretty  tole»"ably  often.  They  got  lots  of  scalps, 
sometimes,  and  sometimes  they  lost  their  own.  The  Tryon  Coun- 
ty boys,  when  they  had  a  fair  chance  at  'em,  always  paid  'em  oflf. 
with  interesL     As  the  poet  said : 

"  '  Come  all  you  Tryon  County  men, 
And  never  be  dismayed  ; 
But  trust  sincerely  in  the  Lord, 
And  He  ¥rill  be  your  aid.' 

But,  as  I  ginerally  found,  they  had  to  trust  a  good  deal  to  their 

rifles." 

"  I  had  heard  of  the  sufferings  of  the  people  at  the  settlements,** 
said  Ralph,  "  and  knew  the  fact  that  many  sharp  battles,  which 
are  little  known  in  the  general  history  of  the  war,  occurred ;  but 
I  supposed  they  were  confined  to  the  immediate  neighborhood  of 
the  settlements." 

"  Why,  3'^ou  see,  Captain,  if  we  got  the  start  of  'em  at  the  set- 
tlemeu'ts,  we  weren't  such  fools  as  to  let  'em  go  without  a  taste 
of  our  pluck ;  and  it  was  on  one  of  them  occasions  that  I  was 
down  here.  But  I  say,  Captain,"  exclaimed  he,  as  he  approached 
a  sudden  bend  in  the  river,  where  there  was  a  much  more  than 
usual  current,  "  what  d'ye  tliink  of  the  chance  of  setting  up  a 
woolen  factory  down  here,  on  this  creek  ?" 

Amused  with  the  turn  Ichabod  had  given  to  the  conversation, 
Ralph  suggested  that  it  might  possibly  be  a  profitable  investment, 
provided  he  could  induce  the  Indians  to  become  customers  to  his 
establishment,  and  provided  the  requisite  staples  for  the  manu- 
facture could  be  obtained.  Nothing  daunted  by  the  suggestion 
of  obstacles,  Ichabod  proceeded  to  explain  to  Ralph  how  a  rapid 
fortune,  in  that  line,  could  be  accumulated. 

"Now  s'pose.  Captain,  that  we  buy  of  these  Oneidas  and 
Tuscaroras  a  water-privilege.  Well,  that's  done.  Then  we'll 
put  up  a  building.     Plenty  of  materials,  you  see,  all  aroond 


18  TBE      FRONTIERSMBir. 

here ;  and  we  can  get  the  maclimery  at  New  York,  or  send  for 
a  good  hand,  and  make  it  ourselves.  Then,  as  you  say,  we  shall 
have  to  get  the  wool ;  and  after  it's  manufactured,  we  shall  have 
to  sell  it.  But  why  can't  we  raise  sheep  here  ?  "We  can  get  a 
small  stock  at  the  settlement,  and  what  with  thera  and  the 
increase,  we  shan't  have  any  lack  of  wool :  and  for  a  market, 
haven't  we  got  the  whole  country?  But  you'll  say.  Captain, 
that  the  foreign  importations  will  ruins  us  ?  Well,  that  is  a  diffi- 
culty ;  but  it  can't  last,  Captain ;  it  won't  last.  We'll  conquer 
them  foreign  fellows  in  that  business,  yet,  as  we  did  in  the  other. 
But  I  think  we  can,  any  way,  get  up  a  good-enough  home  mar- 
ket among  these  Injins.  I'll  have  a  talk  with  'em  about  it." 
And  we  shall  see  that  he  did,  on  a  subsequent  occasion,  faithfully 
perform  his  promise. 

But  we  will  not  follow  the  worthy  Ichabod  in  his  calculations 
upon  the  profits  of  his  speculation.  He  had  scarcely  reached  the 
middle  of  his  figurings  upon  the  profits  to  be  realized  from  a 
thousand  sheep,  when  Ralph,  who  was  wearied,  yet  amused,  by 
the  earnestness  of  his  companion,  exclaimed : 

"  Arrived  at  last !" 

They  had  now  approached  near  the  northeastern  shore  of  a 
small  lake  or  pond,  which  lay  buried  in  the  valley,  fcompletely 
surrounded  by  the  forest.  Its  eastern  shore  was  about  fifty  rods 
from  the  river ;  and  so  far  as  they  could  observe,  it  had  neither 
inlet  nor  outlet.  It  was  of  an  almost  perfect  oval  form,  having 
on  the  eastern  and  a  portion  of  the  southern  shore  a  bluff  of  fif- 
teen or  twenty  feet  in  height ;  but  on  the  southwest,  the  land 
gradually  receded  in  an  upward  slope,  into  a  hill  of  fifty  or  sixty 
feet  in  height,  while,  towards  the  northwest,  the  land  rose 
sharply  from  the  water's  edge  to  an  elevation  of  eighty  or  a 
hundred  feet.  The  northern  shore  seemed  to  be  flat  and  marshy, 
and  had  the  appearance  of  having,  at  one  time,  been  covered  with 
the  waters  of  the  pond.  As  we  have  said,  it  was  of  nearly  an 
oval  form,  and  was  about  one  hundred  rods  across,  from  east  to 
west,  while  from  north  to  south  the  distance  was  still  greater. 
The  water  was  calm  and  clear,  and  reflected,  with  the  brightness 
and  truthfulness  of  a  mirror,  the  forms  of  the  trees  which  stood 
upon  its  western  shore.  Even  Ichabod  awoke  from  his  specula- 
tive dreams,  and  admired,  with  Ralph,  the  still  and  quiet  beauty 
of  the  scene. 

Upon  the  brow  of  "the  hill  which  we  have  described  on  the 
southwestern  shore  of  the  pond,  in  a  clearing  of  few  acres  in 
extent,  stood  a  cottage,  not  much  different  from  the  general 
style  of  cottages,  as  they  were  then  built  by  the  pioneers  of  the 
wilderness.  Yet,  in  the  distance  which  intervened  between  it 
and  our  travelers,  and  in  the  calmness  and  clearness  of  the  day, 
which  had  now  nearly  reached  its  close,  the  cottage  possessed 
charms,  in  their  eyes,  which  its  intrinsic  beauties,  either  in  sitiuk 


THE       FRONTIERSMEN.  19 

kion  or  construction,  did  not  perhaps  merit.     So  far  as  Ralpb 

was  concerned,  perhaps,  there  were  other  reasons  to  lend  it  % 
charm,  beyond  the  beauty  of  the  landscape  or  the  golden  rays 
thrown  upon  it  by  the  setting  sun. 

While  they  were  yet  observing  it,  with  very  different  emotions, 
it  was  apparent  from  an  unwonted  excitement  among  its  inhabi- 
tants, that  their  arrival  had  been  observed,  and  the  figure  of  a 
stout-looking  elderly  man,  followed  by  a  negro,  could  be  seen  ad- 
vancing towards  them.  But  we  must  leave  the  meeting  to  be 
recorded  in  the  next  chapter. 


.>^' 


:^^^'^-' 


i^O  fSl     rBOVTIBBIMIV 


CHAPTER   III. 

^  'Tis  pleasant,  through  the  loop-hQles  of  retrM^ 
To  peep  at  such  a  world ;  to  see  the  stir 
Of  the  great  Babel,  and  not  feel  the  crowd; 
To  hear  the  roar  she  sends,  through  all  her  gatM^ 
At  a  safe  distance,  where  the  dying  sound 
Falls,  a  soft  murmur,  on  the  uninjured  ear." 

Thi  individual  we  have  mentioned,  who  now  came  rapidlj 
towards  Ralph,  was  somewhat  advanced  in  years — not  less,  per- 
haps, than  sixty.  Yet,  in  his  whole  bearing  and  appearance 
could  be  seen  the  iron  frame  and  hardihood,  which  in  these  days 
have  given  place  to  a  certain  effeminacy  of  manners.  The  hardy, 
robust  race  of  men  who  cleared  our  forests,  and  encountered 
cheerfully  the  sufferings  and  privations,  and  endured  the  toil 
incident  to  a  pioneer  life,  are  passing  away  ;  and  however  much 
our  vanity  may  suffer  in  making  the  confession,  their  sons  and 
successors  are  apt  to  lack  in  those  iron  qualities  which  succeeded 
against  obstacles,  the  magnitude  of  which  most  of  us  do  not 
appreciate. 

The  countenance  of  this  individual  exhibited  tokens  of  the 
energy  of  this  now  nearly  departed  class  of  men  ;  yet  upon  it, 
at  the  same  time,  glowed  an  expression  of  honesty  and  intelli- 
gence, which  at  once  win  the  heart  and  command  confidence  and 
respect.  The  frosts  of  time  had  but  lightly  touched  his  hair,  and 
at  the  first  glance,  one  would  have  guessed  him  at  least  ten  years 
younger  than  he  actually  was. 

Matthew  Barton,  for  such  was  his  name,  about  two  years  before 
the  period  we  have  assigned  for  our  narrative,  had  left  one  of  the 
settlements  at  the  eastward,  and  removed  with  his  family  to  this 
remote  region.  He  had  been  unfortunate  in  his  pecuniary  affairs, 
and  his  confidence  had  been  betrayed  by  a  friend  for  whom  he 
had  incurred  obligations  nearly  to  the  amount  of  his  small  for- 
tune. With  the  remains  of  his  little  property  he  had  removed 
to  the  west,  advancing  beyond  the  remotest  dwelling  in  this 
section  of  the  State.  He^was  satisfied  that  he  had  years  of  labor 
left  in  him  yet ;  and  with  a  prudent  foresight,  he  saw  that  a  few 
years,  at  most,  would  surround  him  with  neighbors,  who  would 
be  likely  to  follow  him  to  the  fertile  and  beautiful  valley  he  had 
selected.  Suddenly,  perhaps,  for  one  advanced  to  his  age,  and 
yielding  partially  to  the  feelings  of  mortification  he  endured  at 
the  idea  of  struggling  with  poverty  among  those  who  had  seen 
him  in  a  more  prosperous  condition,  he  resolved  upon  this  oourse, 
likd  it  was  at  once  adopted. 


Til      7K01f  TIIKBM  I  V.  SI 

ffifl  wife  had  died  a  number  of  years  before,  leaving  hira  but 
one  child,  a  daughter,  who  at  this  time  had  arrived  at  about 
twenty  years  of  age.  He  had  purchased,  with  the  remains  of 
his  property,  a  negro,  to  assist  him  in  his  farming  operations  , 
and  thus  provided,  we  behold  him  in  the  new  house  of  his  old 
age. 

Ralph  advanced  rapidly  forward  to  meet  him,  and  hearty 
were  the  greetings  between  them. 

"Right  glad  am  I  to  see  you  here,  Ralph,"  said  Barton, 
"yours  is  the  first  friendly  face  I  have  seen  from  the  settle- 
ments in  many  a  day ;  and  I  can  say,  too,  that  there  is  no  other 
I  would  more  gladly  see.  Oneidas  and  Tuscaroras  are  well 
enough  in  their  place,  but  it  does  one  good  to  see  a  little  of  the 
old  eastern  blood,  once  in  a  while." 

The  first  greetings  over,  Ralph,  with  a  blush — very  faint  indeed, 
but  still  a  blush — of  which  the  old  gentleman  was  entirely 
unconscious,  inquired  about  his  old  playmate,  Ruth. 

"  Well  and  happy,  Ralph — at  least,  as  happy  as  one  can  be,  so 
far  from  friends ;  but  she  will  be  right  glad  to  see  you,  I  doubt 
not." 

Ralph  introduced  Ichabod  to  Mr.  Barton,  as  a  worthy  gentle- 
man from  the  settlements,  who  had  been  induced  to  accompany 
him  through  the  wilderness ;  and  the  party  then  proceeded 
towards  the  cottage,  which,  on  a  nearer  approach,  if  it  lost  some 
of  the  enchantments  which  distance  had  lent  it,  gained  on  the 
score  of  adaptation  to  the  purposes  for  which  it  had  been  erected. 
It  was  situated  in  the  midst  of  a  few  acres  of  land  which  had 
been  almost  entirely  cleared,  and  which  showed  abundant  signs 
of  having  already  repaid,  for  the  season,  the  labor  which  had 
been  bestowed  upon  it.  A  log  barn  had  been  erected,  a  short  dis- 
tance from  the  house,  and  about  the  premises  were  seen  the  usual 
fixtures  of  a  pioneer  habitation.  The  house  itself  was  built  of 
logs,  but  they  had  been  hewn  and  squared  with  some  care ;  and, 
altogether,  it  had  the  appearance  of  a  neat  and  comfortable  resi- 
dence. It  had,  also,  with  a  foresight  against  contingencies  which 
might  occur,  been  adapted  as  a  place  of  defense  against  any 
attacks  which  might  be  made  upon  it  by  Indians. 

"  Stir  your  shanks,  Sambo !"  said  Barton  to  the  ne^ro,  "  and 
inform  your  mistress  that  she  has  visitors  coming." 

The  negro  hurried  away  on  his  errand,  while  the  party  pro- 
ceeded more  leisurely  towards  the  dwelling. 

Ralph  was  welcomed  by  Miss  Barton  with  all  the  warmth 
and  pleasure  that  might  have  been  expected  from  their  ^'*^y 
friendship.  Years  had  elapsed  since  they  had  been  separated, 
and,  in  the  look  of  mutual  joy  and  pleased  surprise  at  the  changes 
which  time  had  wrought  in  each  other,  might  be  traced,  perhaps, 
in  both,  the  existence  of  a  tenderer  feeling  than  belongs  to  mer* 
friendship. 


^2  TBE      FBONTIEBSHKir 

Bath  Barton,  as  we  have  already  said,  was  about  twenty  yeftrf 
of  age.  In  figure,  she  was  of  the  medium  female  height,  but  with 
a  form  fully  developed  by  healthful  exercise ;  her  countenance  pos- 
sessed a  gentle  quietness,  which  was  peculiarly  feminine ;  but 
withal  it  gave  evidence  of  a  confidence  and  self-reliance  necessary 
to  the  women  as  well  as  to  the  men  of  the  frontier  settlements 
of  that  period.  She  was,  as  her  appearance  would  isdicate,  the 
life  of  the  family =— always  busy  in  the  labors  and  duties  of  the 
household ;  and,  under  her  superintendence,  there  were  a  regu- 
larity and  neatness  which,  to  the  most  fastidious  of  housekeepers, 
might  perhaps  have  been  a  little  surprising.  But  these  were  not 
the  only  qualifications  which  Ruth  Barton  possessed.  She  was 
not  satisfied  with  the  mere  routine  of  ordinary  duties,  but  she 
had  found  time  to  adorn  her  mind  with  many  of  the  accomplish- 
ments Of  education — far  beyond  most  of  those  even,  who  were 
elevated  above  her  by  the  means  and  opportunity  of  acquiring 
a  thorough  education.  Her  mind  was  of  a  somewhat  imaginative 
cast,  and  she  possessed  a  deep  and  quiet  love  for  the  beauties  of 
Nature.  She  loved  her  new  home  in  the  wilderness — the  beauti- 
ful valley  which  her  father  had  seclected,  possessed  charms  which 
she  admired ;  and  she  had  never  wished  to  exchange  it,  though 
solitary  and  neighborless,  for  the  more  populous  country  in  which 
she  had  once  resided. 

There  was  also  present  in  the  room  an  ill-clad,  stout-looking 
man,  by  the  name  of  Guthrie,  apparently  about  forty-five  years 
of  age.  His  countenance  had  a  vulgar  cast ;  and  it  wore,  besides, 
in  ill-natured  expression,  that  repelled  any  attempt  at  an  inti- 
mate acquaintance.  This  Guthrie  had,  during  the  war  of  the 
Revolution,  been  a  Tory ;  and  it  had  been  suspected  that  he  was 
sne  of  the  most  active  agents  in  inciting  the  Indians  of  this  local- 
ity to  revolt.  He  resided  at  some  distance  below,  on  the  river, 
in  a  log  shanty  erected  by  him.  He  was  a  sort  of  squatter,  and 
tilled  a  few  acres  which  had  been  partially  cleared  by  the  Indians 
years  before ;  but  relied  principally  upon  his  gun  and  fish-pole  for 
a  livelihood.  Occasionally  he  went  to  the  settlements  with  such 
skins  or  other  articles  as  he  could  exchange.  He  was  merely 
tolerated  in  the  family  of  Mr.  Barton,  whenever  he  made  his 
appearance  j  and  knowing  the  ill  favor  with  which  he  was  re- 
ceived, it  was  seldom  that  he  intruded  himself  upon  them. 

As  the  party  entered  the  door,  Guthrie,  who  had  been  sit- 
ting listlessly  by  the  fireside,  arose  with  a  sort  of  dogged  air ; 
but  as  the  tall  figure  of  Ichabod  met  his  eye,  he  shrank  quietly 
back  again,  and  endeavored,  as  much  as  possible,  to  withdraw 
himself  from  observation.  Ichabod  did  not  observe  him,  or,  at 
least,  exhibited  no  signs  of  recognition. 

"We  have  been  expecting  you.  Captain  Weston,  for  some 
days,"  said  Ruth  ;  "  we  learned  by  Guthrie,  who  came  about  a 
w«ek  1^  from  the  settlements,  that  you  had  returned  from  tho 


THK      FR0NTIEB3HSN.  33 

army ;  and  we  have  been  awaiting  the  fulfilment  of  an  old  pro- 
mise to  visit  us." 

•'I  left  Philadelphia  but  a  few  weeks  since,"  replied  Ralph; 
"  I  was  mindful  of  my  promise,  and  set  out  on  my  visit  here  aa 
soon  as  my  business  arrangements  would  allow ;  but  I  hardly 
think  I  should  have  found  my  way  here  at  all,  had  it  not  been 
for  my  friend,  Mr.  Jenkins.  He  picked  his  way  through  your 
wilderness  like  an  old  acquaintance." 

Ichabod  acknowledged  the  attention  which  this  remark  at- 
tracted towards  him,  by  gradually  elevating  his  form  and  reply- 
ing: 

"  "Well,  these  woods  are  something  like  an  old  acquainance  to 
me,  seeing  as  how  I  have  been  through  here  on  some  sharp  war 
paths,  afore  now.  It  was  down  yonder  in  them  flats,  we  had  a 
terrible  skrimmage  with  them  red  sarpints  the  Senecas  and  On- 
ondagas ;  but  we  gave  'em  a  touch  of  Independence,  con-found 


em 


p» 


"  How  long  ago,  Mr.  Jenkins,"  asked  Barton,  "  did  the  fight 
which  you  mention  occur  ?" 

"  Well,  as  near  as  I  can  calculate,  I  should  think  it  was  in  the 
fall  of  79." 

"  That  must  have  been  the  same  affair  which  I  have  heard  you 
mention,  Guthrie,"  said  Barton,  addressing  that  individual,  who 
sat  in  the  corner  of  the  large  fireplace,  with  his  hat  drawn  over 
his  eyes. 

"  Yes,"  growled  Guthrie^  without  moving. 

"  What !  old  veteran,  was  you  there,  too  ?"  asked  Ichabod, 
approaching  him. 

"  No,  I  wan't  there,"  replied  Guthrie  ferociously,  partly  turn- 
ing his  face  towards  Ichabod. 

"Well,  you  needn't  be  so  savage  about  it,  friend,"  said  Icha- 
bod, slowly.  ''  Them  that  font  there,  so  far  as  I  know,  hadn't 
nothing  to  be  ashamed  on."  Then  turning  away,  he  muttered 
to  himself,  "  I've  seen  them  features  afore,  somewhere — down  in 
the  settlements,  perhaps.  But  I  say.  Squire,"  turning  towards 
Barton,  "  you've  done  a  mighty  smart  business,  clearing  up 
here,  lately." 

"Yes,  something  of  a  business.  We  have  not  been  idle. 
Sambo  and  I  have  got  ten  or  fifteen  acres  pretty  well  cleared." 

la  the  meantime,  Euth  was  busy  making  preparations  for  the 
family  supper,  and  providing  otherwise  for  the  comfort  of  their 
guests.  Guthrie  took  the  opportunity  quietly  to  leave  the  room, 
and  with  his  rifle  on  his  shoulder,  proceeded  rapidly  in  a  south- 
erly direction. 

The  conversation  then  turned  upon  the  political  condition  0/ 
the  country,  the  depreciated  state  of  the  currency,  and  the  anti- 
cipated proceedings  of  Congress. 

"  The  greatest  difficulty  that  lies  in  the  way  of  a  proper  ma» 


24  TBI      FBONTIEBSlfElf. 

i^emeiit  and  settlement  of  our  affairs,"  said  Ralph,  in  reply  tc 
Bome  remark  of  Barton,  "  it  seems  to  me,  is  in  the  limited  pow- 
ers of  Congress.  Impotent  for  any  purpose,  it  has  a  herculean 
task  before  it.  I  think  it  wU^  be  found  necessary  to  adopt  a 
stronger  government." 

"No,  no,"  replied  Barton,  who  seemed  to  be  tenacious  of 
State  rights,  and  to  labor  under  a  great  fear  of  the  evil  cons» 
quences  of  a  centralization  of  power.  "  Congress  has  powe; 
enough.  The  disorders  under  which  the  country  labors,  woui 
have  been  no  less  under  any  form  of  government.  Withou 
resources,  in  a  long  and  harassing  war,  the  burden  of  indebted 
ness  and  the  depreciated  condition  of  the  currency,  were  una 
voidable ;  but  all  that  will  be  necessary  to  restore  us,  will  be  a 
few  years  of  peace.     Things  will  come  round  of  themselves." 

"  But,"  said  Ralph,  "  how  is  our  indebtedness  to  be  paid  ? 
The  country  is  already  exhausted  by  taxation.  The  States 
themselves  are  overburdened  with  their  own  debts:  when  to 
these  are  added  those  contracted  by  Congress,  it  is  very  difficult, 
under  the  present  order  of  things,  to  see  our  way  clearly  out  of 
our  embarrassments.  No  credit  in  Europe — no  money  at  home — 
no  confidence  anywhere.  With  a  few  years  of  peace,  had  Con- 
gress the  power  to  levy  impost  duties,  much  might  be  done. 
Even  the  late  measure  of  a  proposed  impost  duty  of  five  per  cent, 
has  been  lost  by  the  obstinacy  of  Rhode  Island,  which  would 
not  concur  in  the  measure." 

"  Say,  the  patriotism  of  Rhode  Island,  rather,"  answered  Bar- 
Jon,  ''  if  that  term  may  be  applied  to  a  State.  I  look  upon  that 
system  of  impost  duties  as  a  direct  robbery  of  the  people.  Give 
Congress  that  power,  and  you  give  away  the  whole  property  of 
the  nation.  Duties  would  be  laid  that  would  deprive  the  poorer 
classes  of  all  the  comforts — ay,  of  many  of  the  necessaries  of 
life.     That  won't  do." 

"  How,  then,"  asked  Ralph,  "  would  you  pay  off  our  indebted- 
ness, and  support  the  burthens  of  government  ?" 

"  By  direct  taxation ! " 

"But  that  system,  you  would  find,  I  think,"  said  Ralph, 
"  would  not  answer  the  purpose.  It  would  only  reach  a  certain 
class,  and  would  be  very  strongly  resisted.  But,  by  the  other 
system,  the  trifling  addition  to  the  cost  of  articles  of  general 
consumption  would  be  little  felt,  and  after  a  time,  would  be 
generally  acquiesced  in.  Besides,  all  classes  of  persons  would  ba 
reached,  and  almost  universally  in  proportion  to  their  means." 

"  It  is  only  a  return  to  the  principle  of  the  stamp  act,"  said 
Barton,  who  was  a  little  excited ;  "  and  our  seven  years  of  war< 
fare  and  suffering  will  have  been  useless,  if,  after  all,  we  are 
to  permit  any  authority,  in  its  discretion,  to  impose  burdens 
apon  us." 

^  I  don't  know  about  that,  Squire,"  interrupted  Ichabod,  whs 


THE      r  SONTIERSM  E  N.  25 

had  liatened  to  this  discussion  with  much  interest,  and  to  whose 
mind  the  factory  speculation  proposed  to  Ralph,  recurred. 
"  Wouldn't  such  a  system  a  little  better  allow  us  to  take  care  of 
ourselves?  Couldn't  we  a  little  easier  build  up  manufactories  of 
our  own  ?  Just  add  that  five  or  ten  per  cent,  to  the  profits  of 
our  own  manufacturers,  and  pretty  soon  we'd  hold  them  furrin 
manufacturers  off  at  arm's  length.  You'd  see  factories  of  all 
sorts  starting  up  all  over  the  country,  and  there  would  be  a 
pleasure  in  that,  to  a  man  who  loved  his  own  country — to  wear 
cloth  and  drive  nails  made  at  home.  Now,  couldn't  you,  Squire 
if  a  duty  of  ten  or  fifteen  per  cent,  was  laid  on  woollen  fixins', 
afford  to  go  into  the  fact  )ry  business,  on  your  own  hook,  on  this 
river  of  your'n,  here  ?  " 

"Fiddlesticks!"  ejaculated  Barton,  "what  could  /do  in  the 
factory  business?" 

"  Well,  perhaps  you  mightn't  do  anything  at  it,  Squire,"  replied 
Ichabod ;  "  but  somebody  else  might.  Now.  suppose  somebody 
should  locate  a  business  of  that  kind  down  here,  I'll  tell  you 
how  you  could  make  a  nice  spec  out  of  it,  without  laying  out 
any  capital  at  all — although  it  would  be  kind'er  fair  to  lend  a 
helping  hand,  jist  to  start,  perhaps,  seeing  you  could  make  so 
well  out  of  it." 

Barton  looked  at  Ichabod,  as  if  he  began  to  doubt  his  sanity ; 
but  to  Ralph,  the  earnestness  of  the  one  and  the  surprise  of  the 
other,  was  a  matter  of  great  amusement. 

Ichabod  continued,  pleased  at  the  surprised  attention  which 
Barton  was  giving  to  him : 

"  You  see,  Squire,  s'pose  that  business  should  be  started  down 
here,  jist  opposite  them  flats,  it  would  be  necessary  to  bring  in 
lots  of  people,  and  you  could  lay  out  them  flats  into  building- 
lots,  and  realize  something  handsome  out  of  it." 

"  Pshaw ! "  said  Barton,  "  a  city  down  here !  Well,  I'll  tell 
you  what  I'll  do,  Mr.  Jenkins.  I'll  give  you  the  land  for  your 
factory,  together  with  your  water-privilege,  and  we'll  divide  the 
profits  on  the  city  lots  j "  and  the  old  gentleman  laughed  heartily 
at  the  suggestion. 

"  That's  what  I  call  fair,"  said  Ichabod,  slowly ;  "  but  couldn^ 
you,  Squire,  do  a  little  something  towards  furnishing  the  capi 
tal?" 

'•  Furnishing  the  capital ! "  ejaculated  Barton ;  "  why,  as  to 
that,  I  haven't  capital  enough  to  furnish  my  own  farm,  small  as 
it  is.  No :  I  think,  Mr.  Jenkins,  I  have  made  you  a  very  fair 
offer." 

Just  at  this  moment,  Sambo  announced  their  supper  to  be 
ready,  and  Ichabod  was  obliged  to  desist  from  the  fuither  prose- 
cution of  his  project.  But,  extremely  well  satisfied  with  the 
progress  already  made,  he  began  seriously  to  dream  of  tbt 
manufacturing  firm  of  "  Barton,  Weston,  Jenkins  &  Co." 


26  TH3     f  A0NTIBR8aiB9. 


CHAPTER    IV 

2d  Pialurman. — "  Master,  I  marvel  hojf  the  fishes  live  in  the  8«ft.** 
lit  Fisherman. — "Why,  as  men  do  on  land — the  great  ones  eat  up  tht 
little  ones."  Pkbiclib. 

Ralph  was  now  fairly  installed  as  a  member  of  the  family  of 
Mr.  Barton.  He  had  found  an  opportunity,  in  the  course  of  the 
evening  of  his  arrival,  to  ex3hange  a  few  words  of  conversation 
with  Ruth ;  and  he  was  now  satisfied  that  the  partiality  with 
which,  in  former  days,  she  had  regarded  him,  had  not  given  place 
to  indifierence.  The  consciousness  of  this  fact  amply  repaid 
him  for  long  years  of  absence,  and  led  him  to  look  forward  to 
such  a  future  as  only  appears  to  the  vision  of  those  who  reason 
from  the  heart.  The  future,  cold,  impassable,  dark,  and  filled 
with  mysterious  dread,  to  him  who  has  outlived  the  power  of 
youthful  passion — to  the  young  and  the  hopeful,  is  the  unattained 
but  attainable  region,  where  exist  all  the  charms  and  raptures 
which  can  be  bodied  forth  by  an  ardent  imagination.  So  dif- 
ferent are  the  views  of  life  which  can  be  made  by  a  few  active, 
busy  years. 

On  the  morning  of  the  day  after  their  arrival,  Ralph  and  Icha- 
bod,  accompanied  by  Barton,  examined  the  farm  and  the 
improvements  which  had  been  made  by  the  energy  of  the  lat- 
ter. Some  fifteen  acres  of  forest  had  already  been  cleared,  and 
Sambo,  on  this  morning,  was  engaged  in  still  farther  invading  the 
domains  of  the  wilderness ;  and  with  his  bare  and  muscular 
arms  was  wielding  the  axe  like  a  redoubtable  soldier  among  a 
multitude  of  enemies. 

There  is  something  pleasant  to  the  eye  in  beholding  the  strug- 
gle of  man  with  the  wilderness;  to  see  old,  mossy  trees,  that 
had  stood  for  ages,  faithful  guardians  of  the  soil,  whose  long, 
leafy  boughs  and  bushy  crowns,  seemed  to  belong  as  much  to 
the  sky  in  which  they  waved  and  nodded,  as  to  the  earth  which 
sustained  them,  bow  down  their  heavy  heads  with  a  crash,  that 
to  the  imaginative  Blind,  seems,  with  its  echoes,  like  a  mournful 
wail  issuing  from  the  surviving  forest.  As  the  tree  falls,  the 
golden  sunlight  darts  into  a  new  and  unexplored  region,  and  the 
melancholy  forest  abode  recedes,  as  if  pursued  by  an  nnplacable 
enemy.  But  it  is  a  rescue  of  the  earth  from  the  long  slumber 
of  past  time,  aj.i  an  ofiering  to  the  comforts  and  necessities  of 
the  future. 

It  is  scarcely  to  be  wondered  at,  that  in  earlier  times,  when 
the  imaginations  of  men  overruled  their  powers  of  reason,  iht 


TBS      FRONTIERSllIir.  2T 

sombre,  melancholy  forest  abode  was  peopled  with  fanciful  beings 
►—children  of  the  shadow  and  of  the  forest — Fairies.  Dryads,  and 
Satyrs,  with  Arcadian  landscapes,  and  the  good  god  Pan  to  pre- 
side over  sylvan  sports !  But  in  these  days  of  utility,  the  reed 
of  the  shepherd  and  the  music  of  the  sylvan  gods  are  drowned 
in  the  clatter  of  saw-millS;  and  the  hoarse  song  of  the  wood- 
chopper. 

Ichabod,  who  had  not  forgotten  the  conversation  of  the  pre- 
vious evening,  endeavored,  two  or  three  times,  to  revive  the  pro- 
ject which  on  that  occasion  he  had  proposed  to  Barton ;  but  he 
was  unsuccessful  in  his  attempts  to  renew  the  discussion.  After 
a  few  hours  thus  spent,  the  party  returned  to  the  cottage.  Bar- 
ton proposed,  for  the  afternoon,  a  fishing  excursion  upon  the  pond. 
"  It  is  filled,"  said  he,  '•  with  pickerel  and  perch — both  very  deli- 
cious fish,  and  they  are  taken  with  the  utmost  ease.  This  is 
just  Che  season  for  them." 

Ralph  inquired  if  the  streams  contained  any  specimens  of 
trout ;  and  Barton  answered,  "  that  the  river  contained  some 
very  fine  specimens,  although  they  were  not  so  numerous  as  in 
the  smaller  streams.  Occasionally  we  take  pike,  but  they  do 
not  come  so  far  up  the  river  in  very  large  quantities.  But,"  he 
continued,  with  a  zeal  that  showed  he  was  not  a  stranger  to  the 
gentle  art,  '•  our  brooks  are  filled — absolutely  filled — with  trout. 
There  is  a  stream,  about  a  mile  and  a  half  west  of  us,  which 
comes  from  the  northwest,  through  a  wilderness,  with  which  I 
am  almost  wholly  unacquainted,  where  they  can  be  taken  in 
great  numbers.  In  an  hour,  we  can  catch  as  many  as  it  will  be 
convenient  to  carry.  If  you  like,  we  will  go  over  there  to-mor- 
row, or  next  day ;  but  for  to-day,  I  am  anxious  to  show  you 
sport  nearer  by." 

It  was  arranged,  that  in  the  afternoon  the  suggestion  of  Bar- 
ton should  be  followed  ;  and  hearing  the  latter  giving  some  direc- 
tions to  Sambo,  which  it  will  be  unnecessary  here  repeat,  Ralph 
and  Ichabod  proceeded  leisurely  towards  the  cottage. 

"  There  is  a  charm,  for  me,  about  a  life  in  the  woods,"  said 
Ralph,  "  which  I  cannot  explain.  Mingled  with  the  idea  of  a 
nearer  approach  to  the  Court  of  Nature,  is  that  of  separation  from 
the  passions  and  vices  of  men  in  the  world.  One  feels  to  eiclaiin 
with  the  Bard  of  Avon, 

"  '  Is  not  this  life  more  sweet 
Than  that  of  painted  pomp  1     Are  not  these  woodd 
More  free  from  peril  than  the  envious  oourtl'  " 

"  I  don't  dispute  the  general  idea,"  said  Ichabod,  "  about  the 
sweetness  of  a  life  in  the  woods.  I  have  never  tried  it  very 
much,  bat  I  always  have  a  different  sort  of  feeling  from  usual 
when  I  find  myself  in  the  forest ;  but  I  reckon  that  it  can't  b« 
eoosiderod  very  patriotie  for  a  Cftptaia  m  the  RevolutiouMy 


2S  T  H  K       f  •  K  O  N  T  1  E  R  S  M  E  K  . 

Army  to  be  quoting  Shakspeare,  or  any  other  British  poet 
What  did  he  know  about  our  woods  1  All  the  woods  he  erer 
saw  were  but  a  child's  play-ground  compared  with  the  eternal, 
never-ending  forests  of  America.  As  for  me,  if  I've  got  any 
poetry  to  quote,  I  can  find  enough  of  our  own  manufacture.  I 
believe  in  the  home  manufacture  of  that  article,  just  as  much  as 
I  do  in  that  of  the  other  kind  we  were  talking  about  last  night." 

Kalph  smiled  at  Ichabod's  literar;f  bigotry.     He  answered: 

"I  do  not  know  any  reasonable  objection  to  our  admiring  the 
men  of  genius  of  a  foreign  or  hostile  nation,  or  their  writings. 
Men  of  genius  are  the  property  of  the  world.  Whatever  they 
may  think  or  say  that  may  delight  and  instruct  one  people,  may 
equally  delight  and  instruct  all  others.  We  are  yet  in  the 
infancy  of  the  poetic  art,  and  have  produced  no  poets  capable 
of  winning  a  world-wide  reputation." 

"  That's  precisely  what  the  British  say,  Captain ;  and  if  I 
didn't  know  that  your  heart  was  true  as  steel  to  the  American 
cause,  I  should  be  a  little  ^eoZow^  of  you.  No  poets  of  reputation ! 
Did  you  ever  read  Freneau,  Captain  ?  To  my  mind,  he's  got 
more  poetry  in  his  little  finger  than  Shakspeare  had  in  bis 
whole  body.  Now,  did  Shakspeare  ever  write  anything  equal 
to  Freneau's  "  Antiquity  of  America  ?" 

And  Ichabod  began  reciting,  in  a  loud  voice— 

"  '  America,  to  every  climate  known, 
Spreads  her  broad  bosom  to  the  burning  zone ; 
To  either  pole  extends  her  vast  domain, 
Where  varying  suns  in  different  summers  reiga.' " 

That's  the  way  the  poem  begins,  and  it  fully  keeps  up  its  pitch 
Wft  the  way  through." 

Ralph  had  some  knowledge  of  the  poetical  compositions  of 
Franeau,  who  had  really  produced  some  poems,  full  of  a  fine, 
poetic  feeling,  and  who  was  much  beyond  the  mass  of  his  poeti- 
cal contemporaries  in  this  country  ;  yet,  although  he  entertained 
a  feeling  of  respect  for  the  ability  and  services  of  the  revolution- 
ary poet,  he  coJild  not  share  the  high  degree  of  admiration  which 
Ichabod  entertained  for  him. 

"  I'll  grant,"  said  Ralph,  scarcely  knowing  how  to  reply  to  the 
irritated  Ichabod,  "  that  Shakespeare  never  did  write  precisely 
such  a  poem  ;  and  Lwill  admit  that  I  do  not  believe  he  ever 
could  have  written  such  an  one." 

"  I  knew  you  were  right  at  heart.  Captain,"  exclaimed  Ichabod, 
highly  elated  over  his  equivocal  victory.  ''  Some  of  his  verses  have 
done  as  much  towards  bringing  down  the  British,  as  whole  regi- 
ments of  Continentals  could  have  done.  But  then,  Freneau  is 
only  one  of  a  whole  circle  of  poets  The  British  boast  about 
their  old  ballads;  now,  I'll  take  an  even  bet,  that  I  can  show  'em 
ballad^  written  here  at  home,  that  will  make  'em  ashamed.  Wkf 


¥  H  E      F  R  0  X  T  I  E  R  S  M  I  N .  29 

we've  bad  a  woman  that  would  eclipse  'em  all,  to  my  mind- 
Mrs.  Bradstreet,  of  whom  another  poet  said : 

"  '  Her  breast  was  a  brave  palace,  a  broad  street, 
Where  all  heroic,  ample  thoughts  did  meet."  ' 

'•  Mrs.  Broadsteet  did  possess  a  sweetness  of  expression,"  said 
Ralph;"  and,  with  a  higher  cultivation,  she  might  have  written 
some  fine  poetry." 

"  Might.  Captain  !  Lord  bless  you,  she  did !  Speaking  of  the 
Squire's  fishing  expedition,  what  other  poet  ever  said  as  fint 
things  Bhoxxtjish,  for  instance,  as  she  did  ? 

•'  •  Ye  fish,  which  in  this  liquid  region  'bide, 
That  for  each  season  have  your  habitation, 
Now  salt,  now  fresh,  where  you  think  best  to  glido, 
'  To  unknown  coasts  to  give  a  visitation. 

In  lakes  and  ponds  you  leave  your  numerous  fry : 
So  Nature  taught,  and  yet  you  know  not  why, 
You  wat'ry  folk  that  know  not  your  felicity.'  " 

Rarph  was  much  amused  at  the  earnestness  of  Ichabod,  and 
he  did  not  wish  to  irritate  him  by  any  depreciating  criticism 
upon  verses  which  he  considered  so  extraordinary ;  but  re- 
marked : 

"  An  admiration  of  poetic  productions  depends  very  much 
upon  the  quality  of  our  taste.  I  presume  that  I  have  very  little 
taste  for  such  things ;  but  I  do  think  that  our  ballad  poetry  has 
done  us  good  service.  Written  in  a  popular  style,  and  sung  or 
recited  by  men  who  felt  the  particular  sentiments  usually  con- 
tained in  them,  these  ballads  have  frequently  proved  effective  in 
inspiring  a  proper,  natural  feeling." 

"  Them's  my  sentiments.  Captain,"  said  Ichabod ;  "  and  I'm 
glad  to  see  that  you're  right  on  that  p'int.  We've  got  ballads 
on  all  sorts  of  subjects,  from  the  time  of  King  Philip's  war 
down  to  these  days.  Did  you  ever  read  the  ballad  of  '  Love- 
well's  Fight,'  Captain  ?  I  call  it  a  great  poem.  After  speaking 
of  the  Vj^dant  Captain  Lovewell,  it  goes  on  to  say : 

•*  *  He  and  his  valiant  soldiers 

Did  range  the  woods  full  widey 
And  hardships  they  endured. 
To  quell  the  Indian's  prid*. 

*  *  'TwM  nigh  unto  Pigwacket, 

Upon  the  eighth  of  May, 
They  spied  a  rebel  Indian 

Soon  after  break  of  day. 
He  on  a  bank  was  walking, 

Upon  a  neck  of  land 
Whioh  leads  into  a  pond,  M 

Wt'r«  made  to  undersUad.' 


30  THE      FRONTIERSMKIf. 

"  It  then  goes  on  to  describe  the  fight  between  the  company 
and  the  Injins  that  laid  in  ambush,  and  winds  ap  with  telling 
who  and  how  many  were  killed. 

" '  Our  worthy  Captain  Lovewell 
Among  them  there  did  die  ; 
They  killed  Lieutenant  Robbing, 
And  wounded  good  yeung  Frye,* 

while  th«  rest  of  the  company  started  for  homo ; 

'And  braving  many  dangers 
And  hardship  in  the  way, 
They  safe  arrived  at  Dunstable, 
The  thirteenth  day  of  May.'  " 

*•  Very  good,  Ichabod — very  good !  It  is  really  quite  Ameri* 
can  in  style,  as  well  as  theme." 

"  But  good  as  it  is,  Captain,  it  isn't  a  circumstance  to  some 
of  'em.  There's  '  Brave  Pawling  and  the  Spy,'  and  '  Bold 
Hawthorne,'  and  '  American  Taxation.'  That  last  poem.  Cap- 
tain, has  got  the  true  essence  of  poetry  in  it.  If  I  was  the 
author  of  that,  I'd  die  content.    The  poem  goes  on  to  say . 

*' '  The  cruel  lords  of  Britain, 

Who  glory  in  their  shame, 
The  project  thoy  have  hit  on 

They  joyfully  proclaim  ; 
'Tis  what  they're  striving  after, 

Our  rights  to  take  away, 
And  rob  us  of  our  chartor, 

In  North  America.' 

"  Then  *  two  mighty  speakers,  who  rule  in  Piedmont,'  pro- 
pose to  Ring  George  a  plan  for  taxation  of  the  colonies,  to  whioli 
the  king  accedes,  and  says : 

"  *  My  subjects  shall  be  taxed 
In  North  America. 

Invested  with  a  warrant 

My  publicans  shall  go, 
The  tenth  of  all  their  current 

They  surely  shall  bestow : 
If  they  indulge  rebellion. 

Or  from  my  precepts  stray, 
ru  Bend  my  war  battalion 

To  North  America.' 

"  Then  the  people  of  the  colonies  address  King  George,  and 
implore  him  not  to  tax  'em;  and  finally  say  that  if  he  doea 
they'll  fight  about  it,  and  that 

" '  We  never  will  knock  nnder, 
0  George,  we  do  not  fear 
The  rattling  of  your  thunder, 
Kor  lightning  of  yoor  ipM*  | 


THE      FB0NTIER8MEH.  81 

rhongh  rebels  70a  declare  tu, 

We're  strangers  to  dismay  ; 
Therefore  you  cannot  scare  xia 

In  North  America.' 

"It*s  a  great  poem,  Captain  ;  it  was  written  by  a  schoolmaf- 
tcr  in  Connecticut." 

"  It  is  patriotic  in  tone,"  replied  Ralph  ;  "  it  has  that  merit, 
at  least.  Are  you  much  acquainted  with  the  old  poets  of  the 
country  ?" 

"  A  little,  Captain  ;  I've  read  them  all.  Besides  Mrs.  Brad 
steet,  there's  Roger  Wolcott,  Nathaniel  Ward,  Mather  Byles, 
Joseph  Green,  Peter  Foulger,  old  Michael  Wiggles  worth,  and 
hosts  of  others.  A  splendid  galaxy.  Captain  !  There's  '  The 
Day  of  Doom ;  or,  a  Poetical  Description  of  the  Great  and  Last 
Judgment,'  by  Wigglesworth.  It  is  rather  strong  on  the  old 
New  England  religion,  but  as  a  piece  of  poetical  work,  it's  really 
great.  Was  anything  ever  more  terrible  than  the  description 
of  the  final  judgment  ?  After  the  sentence  is  pronounced,  be- 
fore the  condemned, 

"  ♦  They  wring  their  hands,  their  caitiff  handi, 

And  gnash  their  teeth  in  terror ; 
They  cry,  they  war,  for  anguish  soro, 

And  gnaw  their  tongues  for  horror  ; 
But  get  away,  without  delay, 

Christ  pities  not  your  cry  : 
Depart  to  hell— there  ye  may  yell, 

And  war  eternally.' 

"  We  can  admire  poetry,  sometimes,  when  we  don't  precisely 
approve  of  the  sentiments.  Did  you  ever  see  a  more  terrific 
piece  of  writing  than  that,  Captain  '?" 

"  It  is  full  of  horrors,  I  must  confess,"  said  Ralph,  who  was 
beginning  to  get  weary  at  the  extent  of  Ichabod's  poetical  recol- 
lections ;  "  but  we  are  near  the  cottage,  and  we  must  now  make 
our  preparations  for  the  fishing  expedition.  Are  you  anything 
of  a  fisherman,  Ichabod?" 

"I  can't  say  that  I  am,  Captain.  With  all  respect  for  the 
taste  of  other  people,  it  always  looked  to  me  like  rather  poor 
sport.  A  man  may  do  that,  as  he  does  anything  else,  for  a 
livelihood ;  but,  for  sport,  give  me  a  rifle,  a  sharp  eye,  and  a 
practised  hand.     Howsomever,  I  am  with  you." 

The  afternoon  seemed  to  prepare  itself  expressly  for  the  accom- 
modation of  the  fishing  party.  Light  clouds  covered  the  sky 
and  a  gentle  south  wind  just  stirred  the  face  of  the  water 
Sambo  had  been  to  the  river  and  caught  for  bait  a  quantity  of 
small  white  fish  ;  and,  equipped  with  hooks  and  line.  Barton, 
with  Ralph  and  Ichabod,  proceeded  to  the  pond,  where  they 
entered  a  boat  that  had  been  made  by  hollowing  out  two  halvei 
of  a  large  log,  some  three  feet  in  diameter  and  attaching  thas 


32  THE      FRONTIERSMEN. 

together.      Barton  paddled  towards  the  north-west  side,  an^ 
advanced  some  fifteen  or  twenty  rods  from  the  shore. 

"  In  this  portion  of  the  pond,"  said  he,  "  the  pickeral  are  most 
abundant.  Perch  are  found  in  large  quantities  near  the  south- 
east shore." 

They  then  fastened  the  bait,  which  had  been  kept  alive,  to  the 
hooks,  and  threw  them  overboard.  .Ichabod  was  a  stranger  to 
this  manner  of  fishing,  and  he  watched  the  proceedings  with  an 
evident  degree  of  interest.  Ralph  had  been  accustomed  to  it  in 
his  boyhood  and  thefore  needed  no  instructions. 

Seeing  that  Ichabod  did  not  understand  the  course  of  oper- 
ations, Barton  said  to  him,  "  It  is  necessary,  usually,  for  the  pur- 
pose of  securing  the  fish,  whenever  it  strikes  the  bait,  to  allow 
it  to  run  with  the  line  for  a  short  distance,  when  it  stops  and 
endeavors  to  swallow  its  prey.  If  it  succeeds  in  doing  so,  or  if 
it  finds  itself  hooked,  it  then  runs.  Then  is  the  time  to  pull; 
pull  slowly,  but  steadily,  and  you  have  him." 

"  Hallo !  ive  got  one !"  shouted  Ichabod ;  and,  mindful  of  the 
dirtctions  he  had  just  received,  he  commenced  jerking  and  pull- 
ing violently  on  his  line.  The  fish,  which  was  of  good  size, 
and  would  weigh  from  two  to  three  pounds,  came  struggling 
towards  the  boat,  as  if  not  anxious  to  make  a  more  familiar 
acquaintance  with  the  party.  "  Ah  you  varmint, — you  Seneca !" 
shouted  Ichabod.  Pull  will  you !  I'll  show  you  a  trick  worth 
two  of  that  1"  He  had  just  got  the  fish  close  to  the  side  of  the 
boat,  and  was  eagerly  bent  over  to  grasp  him,  if  necessary,  when 
the  pickeral,  with  a  desperate  struggle,  that  splashed  the  water 
in  all  directions,  broke  loose,  and  darted  with  the  rapidity  of 
light,  as  it  seemed  to  the  eyes  of  Ichabod,  back  into  the  pond. 
The  excitement,  and  the  sudden  release  of  the  prisoner,  nearly 
capsized  Ichabod.  He  fell  towards  the  other  side  of  the  boat,  and 
and  had  it  not  been  for  Ralph,  would  have  tumbled  overboard. 

''  Hallo,  there !"  said  Barton,  laughing,  ''  its  no  use  going  into 
the  water  after  him ;  you  cannot  catch  him  that  way." 

Ralph  also  laughed  heartily  at  the  accident;  and  Ichabod, 
much  disconcerted,  quietly  fastened  another  bait,  determined  to 
succeed  better  on  the  next  trial. 

Just  then,  a  pickeral  of  large  size  darted  at  Barton's  bait,  and 
Barton  eased  off  his  line,  while  the  fish  ran  with  it  some  eight 
or  ten  feet,  and  thSh  commenced  its  efforts  to  swallow  the  cap- 
tive it  had  seized.  It  would  have  been  amusing  to  one  who  had 
no  experience  in  the  excitements  of  that  species  of  fishing,  to 
have  Seen  the  evident  anxiety  of  Barton.  To  the  sportsman,  the 
■excitement  is  of  such  a  degree  as  almost  to  obtain  the  mastery 
of  his  calmness,  when,  with  a  dart  like  a  flash  of  sunlight,  the 
pickeral  seizes  the  bait,  and  flies  so  suddenly  that  one  can  scarcely 
say  he  saw  it ;  then  comes  the  violent  twitching  and  jerking  of 
the  line,  as  the  monster  endeavors  in  its  eagerness  to  devour  iti 


TSE      FRONTIERSMIN.  88 

%  eej.  Barton  waited  patiently,  until  by  the  rapid  motion  of  his 
Uiie  through  the  water,  it  was  apparent  that  the  pickeral  was 
disposed  to  make  ofi'  either  entirely  satisfied  or  very  much  dis- 
satisfied,— when,  with  a  steady  pull,  he  assisted  the  captive  in 
its  escape,  aud  brought  it  slowly,  but  struggling  violently,  back 
to  the  boat.  In  a  moment  it  was  lifted  in,  and  the  capture  was 
completed.  One  would  have  supposed  from  the  appearance  of 
Barton,  that  he  had  triumphed  in  some  great  encounter  in 
Another  and  more  important  field  of  action.  But  it  is  true, 
although  perhaps  not  strange,  that  we  enjoy  with  as  keen  a  rel- 
ish, a  triumph,  when  we  contend  only  with  trifles,  if  our  success 
is  owing  to  our  own  skill  or  wisdom,  as  we  do,  where  we  tri- 
umph over  greater  cbstacles  with  less  skill,  but  with  the  assist- 
ance of  accident. 

Barton  and  Ralph  both  had  extensivly  "  good  luck,"  and  the 
boat  began  to  be  loaded  with  the  fish  they  had  taken.  Ichabod, 
who  for  some  time  had  watched  their  operations  with  much  inter- 
est, had,  of  late,  become  silent,  and  seemed  to  pay  little  or  no 
attention  to  the  sport.  His  first  failure,  and  the  success  of  the 
others,  had  disconcerted  hiui  somewhat ;  and  his  want  of  luck 
began  to  make  him  think  he  was  engaged  in  rather  dull  business. 

At  an  interval  of  cessation  in  their  sport,  which  had  now  become 
a  little  like  labor,  Ralph  turned  to  Ichabod,  and  said, 

''  How  now,  Ichabod — did  that  pickerel  run  away  with  your 
spirits  ?     Wake  up,  man  ;  what  are  you  dreaming  about  ?" 

'•  Confound  the  varmints !"  exclaimed  Ichabod.  '*  The  pervarse 
cree'turs  ain't  worth  talking  about,  to  say  nothing  about  skirmish- 
ing here  half  a  day  after  'em.  Give  me  a  chance  at  them  deer 
yonder  in  the  woods,  or  the  wolves  I've  heered  of  round  here, 
and  we'd  have  something  to  talk  about,  I  tell  you" 

"Well  we'll  give  3^ou  a  chance."  said  Barton  laughing;  "you 
shall  have  an  opportunity  to  triumph  in  your  own  field.  You 
don't  like  pickerel-fishing,  then  ?" 

'•  Pickerel-fishing"  replied  Ichabod  gravely  ;  "  may  be  good 
sport  for  them  as  likes  it,  and  have  a  cunning  that  way  ;  but 
you  see,  I  don't  look  upon  it  as  a  reg'lar  large  business  any  way. 
Give  me  the  sports  one  can  unite  with  business.  Now  you  see, 
the  man  that's  a  good  shot  on  a  deer,  may  be  jist  as  good  a  shot, 
providing  he  has  steady  nerves,  on  an  Injin  ;  but  you  can't  catch 
Senecas  or  Onondagas  with  this  kind  of  bait.  No,  I  don't  like 
it.  Squire."  and  Ichabod  dr^w  back  into  his  former  position  of 
listlessness. 

"  I  say,  Squire"  said  he,  in  a  moment,  with  a  twinkle  of  his 
eyes,  as  if  he  had  hit  upon  a  happy  idea.  "  I  say.  Squire,  there's 
one  way  you  might  make  this  pond  profitable.  This  wasn't  put 
here  merely  to  grow  these  cussed  varmints  in.  Things  has  their 
uses ;  and  the  uses  of  this  body  of  water  isn't  to  cover  fish  spawDi 
as  any  man  can  see  with  half  an  eye. 


34  THE       FRONTIERSMEN. 

"Well,  Ichabod,  any  more  factory  projects?'*  asked  Bftrton 
with  an  attempt  at  composure. 

"  There  isn't  anything  to  laugh  at  in  that  idea,"  said  Ichabod. 
"  Yon  haven't  thought  of  it  as  much  as  I  have.  But  I  tell  you. 
Squire,  you  might  jist  as  well  build  up  this  country  here,  and 
make  your  own  spec,  out  of  it,  as  to  allow  some  body  else  to  come 
in  here,  and  do  it ;  for  'twill  be  dcfne,  I  tell  you.  A  country 
like  this  can't  be  kept  out  of  all  its  advantages  a  great  while,  any 
way.  Now,  you  see,  this  pond,  Squire,  providing — I  say,  provi- 
ding— you  can  get  a  proper  fall  of  water  from  it,  as  I  reckon 
you  can,  would  make  a  great  chance  for  a  mill  privilege,  or  some- 
thing of  that  sort ;    and  you  see.  Squire,  if  that  could  be  done, 

you'd  have  a  supply  of  water  here,  that Creation,  what  have  I 

got  hold  on  ?"  and  Ichabod  commenced  tugging  violently  at  his 
fine ;  for  he  evidently  had  caught  something  that  offered  much 
more  than  ordinary  resistance  to  his  efforts.  His  struggles  at- 
tracted the  attention  of  both  Barton  and  Ralph,  who  came  to 
offer  him  any  assistance  that  might  be  neccessary. 

"  Slow  1  steady  !"  said  Barton. 

"  Yes,  yes,"  shouted  Ichabod :  "  I'll  have  him  now.   Ah !  here 

he  comes — ugh  !  what  in  creation "  and  in  his  astonishment 

he  dropped  his  line,  which  began  to  make  off  rapidly  from  the 
boat. 

"  A  turtle  !"  exclaimed  Barton,  "  a  mud-turtle  !"  seizing  the 
line,  and  pulling  in  the  turtle,  which  would  weigh  eight  or  ten 
pounds.  "  You  have  triumphed  at  last.  Jenkins.  Nobody  else 
has  caught  a  turtle  to-day — and  so  large  a  one,  too.  It  is  a  real 
victory — another  Saratoga,"  and  he  laughed  so  heartily  that 
Ichabod  showed  some  symptoms  of  getting  angry. 

"  Con-found  the  victory,  Squire,"  said  he,  " 111  tell  you  what, 
Squire,  I  don't  handle  them  traps  any  more.  If  you  want  to 
see  slaughter  among  your  bears  and  wolves,  bring  'em  on :  but 
I've  got  through  with  this  cussed  business,  any  how." 

"  But,  without  jesting,  Jenkins"  said  Barton,  "  that  turtle  is 
worth  more  for  eating  than  all  the  fish  we've  got  here — their 
meat  is  delicious ;  and  I  prize  them  highly." 

"  If  that's  so.  Squire,"  said  Ichabod,  '•  you're  entirely  welcome 
to  it.  The  varmint !  I've  seen  'em  down  in  the  settlements ; 
but  I  never  heerd  of  eating  'em,  before ;  Pd  feed  'em  to  Senecas." 

"  They  would  be  very  thankful  for  them"  said  Barton.  "  It 
isn't  every  day  they  get  a  turtle  like  this." 

The  lines  were  all  taken  in,  and  as  they  were  now  suflBciently 
wearied,  the  boat  was  paddled  towards  the  shore,  where.  Sambo 
was  waiting  to  receive  the  fish. 

"  Golly  !"  said  the  negro,  grinning  "  who  caught  dia  ere  fellar  ? 
he!  he!  he!"  pointing  towards  the  turtle. 

"  /  caught  that  varmint !"  replied  Ichabod,  ^vely. 

**  Gums  mMsa  Jenkins  let  he  bait  die,"  fiaid  S*mbo.    '"DiM 


TBS      FRONTIERSMEN.  35 

fellara  don't  bite  Hke  pickerel,  no  how.  How  niMsa  Jenkins 
manage  ?" 

"  Manage !  you  black  devil,"  said  Ichabod,  angrily,  I'll  feed 
you  to  him,  if  you  ask  any  more  questions." 

Ralph  and  Barton  were  very  much  amused  at  Ichabod's  dis- 
comfiture, which  did  not  at  all  pacify  him  ;  but  the  party  pro- 
ceeded towards  the  cottage,  Sambo  being  careful  to  keep  out  of 
Ichabod's  way  ;  but  many  were  the  grins  which  he  made  at  his 
expense,  behind  his  back.  Ichabod  gave  up  the  idea  of  evei 
being  a  fisherman  ;  but,  as  he  seemed  to  be  extremely  sensitive 
on  that  subject,  neither  Ralph  nor  Barton  saw  fit  to  make  anj 
particular  allusion  to  it 


I 


86  fll      PSOMTIIKBMia 


CHAPTER    V. 

«  We  rustled  through  the  leaves  like  wind, 
Left  shrubs,  and  trees,  and  wolves  behind ; 
By  night  I  heard  them  on  the  track. 
Their  whoop  came  hard  upon  our  back, 
With  their  long  gallop,  which  can  tire 
The  hound's  deep  hate  and  hunter's  fire.' 

Maisvpa 

It  was  about  three  o'clock  in  the  afternoon,  when  they 
returned  to  the  cottage;  and  as  the  sun  had  again  made  its 
appearance,  and  thore  were  no  indications  of  unpleasant  weather. 
Ralph  proposed  to  Miss  Barton  that  they  should  put  in  execution 
a  project  which  she  had  mentioned,  of  taking  a  ride  on  horseback 
down  the  valley. 

The  horses  were  at  once  brought  out,  by  the  negro.  They 
were  kept  for  working  horses  by  Barton  ;  but  they  had  sufficient 
life  and  activity  to  make  an  excursion  in  that  mode  pleasant  and 
agreeable. 

Sambo,  who  was  very  much  attached  to  his  mistress,  took  the 
liberty  of  cautioning  her  to  be  home  again  by  nightfall,  and  mut- 
tered something  about  "strange  Injins"  and  wolves.  Barton 
smiled  at  the  fears  of  the  negro ;  but  at  the  same  time  intimated 
that  any  possible  danger  might  be  avoided  by  an  early  return. 

"  As  for  Indians,"  said  he,  "  I  haven't  known  many  around 
here  lately,  and  they  are  all  of  the  friendly  sort.  The  King's 
Indians,  as  they  are  called,  have  not  been  here,  as  I  have  known, 
^nce  I  have  resided  here.  As  for  wolves,  they  are  sometimes 
dangerous,  in  winter ;  I  have  heard  of  them  pursuing  people,  at 
that  season  of  the  year,  when  they  are  particularly  voracious ; 
but  I  never  heard  of  such  an  instance  so  early  in  the  season — 
although  it  is  possible  that  it  might  occur.  But  Ruth  knows 
the  country,"  continued  he,  "  and  will  know  how  to  avoid  any 
dangers  that  are  incident  to  it." 

''  I  shall  place  myself  wholly  under  the  control  of  Miss  Bar- 
ton," said  Ralph  ;  ''  she  shall  be  both  guide  and  guard." 

"  I  can  answer  for  the  guide,"  replied  Ruth,  "  if  not  for  the 
guard.  But  I  have  often  taken  the  short  excursion  I  proposed 
for  to-day ;  and  I  will  promise  to  bring  home  Captain  Weston 
safe  and  sound." 

They  mounted  their  horses,  and  proceeded  slowly  down  the 
valley,  along  a  narrow  path  or  road,  but  of  sufficient  width  to 
allow  two  horses  to  travel  abreast.    They  had  proceeded  in  this 


TMB      FB0NTIIB8MWK.  ST 

maimer  about  a  mile,  in  a  southerly  direction,  with  little  conver- 
sation, except  such  as  was  suggusted  by  their  ride,  when  after 
rounding  a  hill  which  ran  down  nearly  to  the  river,  they  came 
in  full  view  of  the  valley,  which  here  widened  out  into  broaa 
flats,  and  certainly  ofiered  to  their  observation  a  high  degree  of 
beauty  and  attraction. 

"  Beyond  the  hill  which  you  see  yonder,"  said  Ruth,  "  the  val- 
ley attains  a  much  greater  width.  The  river,  on  one  side,  flows 
at  the  base  of  the  eastern  hills ;  and  a  pleasant  stream,  which,  to 
translate  the  Indian  appellation,  means  a  "  swiftly  running  creek," 
flows  at  the  base  of  the  hills  on  the  west.  At  about  a  mile  and 
a  half  below,  they  unite,  and  finally  empty  into  the  Susquehanna. 
The  excursion  I  proposed  for  to-day  was  only  to  the  spot  where 
the  junction  of  the  two  streams  is  formed.  I  have  been  there  a 
few  times,  and  I  have  always  been  charmed  with  the  beauty  of 
the  place." 

"  The  whole  valley  is  beautiful,"  said  Ralph,  "  beyond  any 
ideas  I  entertained  before  visiting  it.  Such  a  place  will  soon  be 
populated.  I  do  not  blame  Ichabod  for  his  schemes  at  specula- 
tion here ;  for  with  the  impulse  which  the  country  must  now 
receive  in  population  and  wealth,  so  beautiful  and  advantageous 
a  region  as  this,  will  not  long  be  neglected." 

They  passed  around  the  hill  which  Ruth  had  mentioned,  where 
the  valley,  as  she  had  observed,  became  of  a  much  greater  width, 
wider  than  Ralph  had  yet  seen  it.  It  was  almost  entirely  cov- 
ered with  forest ;  although  here  and  there  were  places  which  had 
been  partially  cleared  by  the  savages,  in  former  days.  The  forest 
in  which  they  were  encompassed  shut  out  my  very  extensive 
observation  of  the  valley  itself,  except  when  they  were  upon 
some  of  the  high  ground  ;  but  enough  could  be  seen  to  give  one 
a  good  general  idea  of  its  shape  and  condition.  The  path  had 
become  somewhat  more  narrow,  and  they  were  surrounded  by  a 
wilderness  of  vegetation,  which  was  peculiarly  attractive  to  the 
eyes  of  Ralph  and  his  companion. 

After  about  half  an  hour's  further  progress,  they  arrived  at 
the  place  which  had  been  mentioned  by  Ruth.  The  river,  just 
before  it  reaches  the  spot  where  it  receives  the  waters  of  the 
creek,  makes  a  sudden  turn  to  the  east,  for  about  thirty  rods, 
and  then  returns  to  nearly  the  same  point,  in  a  north  and  south 
line,  at  a  distance  of  only  fifteen  or  twenty  rods,  where  the  junc- 
tion is  formed.  A  portion  of  the  waters  of  the  river,  however 
escape  from  the  main  channel  and  flow  directly  towards  the 
south,  making  an  island  two  or  three  acres  in  extent. 

Having  arrived  at  this  spot,  Ralph  and  his  companion  dis- 
mounted from  their  horses,  and  fastening  them  to  some  small 
trees  near  by,  they  gave  themselves  up  to  the  contemplation  of 
the  fine  scenery  around  them.  The  sun  was  then  about  an  hour 
high,  and  the  golden  sunlight  flashing  upon  the  variegated  foliage 


38  THE      rBONTIIBSMEV. 

of  the  forest — the  calmness  which  reigned  undisturbed  around 
them,  the  solitude  of  the  wilderness  in  which  they  were  encom- 
passed, all  conspired  to  give  a  hue  to  feelings  which  both  po»> 
sesed,  but  which  they  scarcely  dared  to  breathe  to  each  other. 

"  I  have  often  dreamed,"  said  Ralph,  of  just  such  a  spot  as  thia. 
I  am  something  of  a  recluse  by  nature ;  but  after  all,  I  have 
some  choice  as  to  the  place  of  my  isolation." 

"  I  shall  expect,  then,"  answered  Ruth,  smiling,  "  to  hear  of 
Ralph  Weston,  the  hermit,  occasionally,  from  those  who  may 
pass  by  here.  Where  do  you  propose  to  establish  your  hermit 
age?" 

"  In  truth,  I  cannot  say,"  replied  Ralph  j  "  but  I  suppose  it 
will  be  when  I,  like  the  hermits  of  old,  have  become  sufficiently 
disgusted  with  the  world,  to  make  me  fly  from  it  with  hatred  j 
I  will  not  fix  the  precise  time,  just  now — I  will  leave  it  to  circum- 
stances. But  familiarity  with  Nature — converse  with  the  soli- 
tude of  the  forest,  is  the  best  antidote  to  the  disgust  which 
many  persons  conceive  of  society.  The  man  cannot  be  all  bad, 
who  has  any  relish  left  in  him  for  the  beauties  which  Nature 
can  unfold  to  him." 

"  You  are  becoming  very  much  of  a  philosopher,  Captain  Wes- 
ton. You  shall  have  another  title  added  to  that  of  hermit.  You 
shall  be  a  philosophical  hermit." 

•*  Ruth !  you  laugh  at  me !  But  you  must  pardon  my  caprice  at 
the  idea  of  a  forest  life  j  for  I  am  not  much  of  a  woodsman,  you 
know.  But  I'll  venture  to  say,  after  all,  that  you  agree  witir 
me." 

"  Yes,"  answered  Ruth,  earnestly,  "  I  do  like  our  new  mode 
of  life.  We  are  nearly  shut  out  from  the  world, — but  we  have 
still  a  thousand  pleasures,  perhaps  the  sweeter  from  our  solita^ 
ry  position.  We  do  not  merely  Jind  a  home,  we  create  one. 
We  see  broad  meadows  starting  out  from  the  forest,  and  know 
that  they  are  our's  by  the  best  of  titles — a  reclamation  from  the 
waste  of  Nature.  I  have  often  asked  myself  whether  I  would  be 
willing  to  abandon  our  present  home  for  the  old  home  in  the 
settlements,  and  I  never  yet  could  answer  that  I  would." 

"  To  a  light,  vain  head,"  answered  Ralph,  *'  such  a  life  would 
be  tiresome ;  but  it  seems  to  me,  although  how  long  the  feeling 
would  endure,  I  cannot  say — yet  it  seems  to  me,  that  the  con- 
stant idea  of  dependahce  upon  a  Power  beyond  and  over  men, 
which  must  be  ever  present  to  the  minds  of  those  who  dwell 
in  the  wilderness,  would  give  life  a  higher  and  truer  aim,  than 
can  be  attained  in  society.  But  familiarity  with  scenes  like  these, 
blunts  the  mind,  perhaps,  and  the  idea  is  soon  lost." 

*'  I  b  tlieve  the  remark  is  true,"  replied  Ruth.  "  We  cannot 
eotirelj  forego  society,  without  injury  to  ourselves." 

"  Ye'  perhaps  it  is  so,"  said  Ralph ;  "  we  can  attain  no  such 
laarveJ    us  degree  of  sentiment  or  independence  as  wholly  to 


THE      FRONTIERSMEN.  39 

destroy  our  taste  for  crowds  and  social  intercourse.  T  think^  *^er 
all,  that  if  I  were  to  become  a  hermit,  I  should  like  a  few  familiar 
friends  to  share  my  hermitage." 

Ruth  smiled  as  she  replied,  "your  hermitage,  then,  Captain 
"Weston,  would  be  a  very  different  affair  from  the  'cave,  rock  and 
desert '  of  an  old-fashioned  recluse,  who 

"  '  Had  nought  to  do  but  feed  on  roota, 
And  gaze  upon  the  stars !' '' 

"  Were  I  ever  to  choose  the  '  rock,  cave  and  desert,' "  said  Ralph, 
"  I  believe  I  should  wish  my  solitary  life,  after  all,  to  be  termi- 
nated, as  was  the  Solitude  of  Edwin,  in  the  ballad  of  Goldsmith ; 
that  is,  if  I  could  ever  hope  that  any  Angelina  would  seek  the 
solitude  I  sought.  But  I  suppose  that  "  Angelinas"  are  the  crea- 
tures of  poetry. 

"  And  why  not  Edwins,  too  ?"  inquh-ed  Ruth,  with  an  arch 
smile. 

"  And  why,  since  we  are  asking  questions,"  asked  Ralph,  with 
a  look  that  brought  a  blush  to  the  cheek  of  his  companion,  "  may 
I  not  ask  Miss  Barton " 

But  the  question,  however  important  to  the  happiness  of  either, 
or  both  of  them,  was  interrupted  by  a  sudden  rustling  of  dry 
underbrush  in  their  immediate  vicinity,  as  if  trodden  upon  by  a 
hasty  foot.  Ralph  turned  suddenly  round,  and  beheld  the  ill- 
natured  countenance  of  Guthrie  before  him.  The  squatter  stop- 
ped short,  leaning  upon  his  rifle,  and  said,  with  an  attempt  at 
civility,  but  in  a  gruff  tone : 

"  You're  a  stranger  in  these  parts,  friend,  and  don't  know 
that  you  may  find  it  a  little  dangerous  traveling  through  this 
forest  by  night." 

"  Datigerous,  Guthrie !  how  so  ?"  inquired  Ruth. 

"  You,  who  live  up  at  the  cottage,  ^Iiss  Ruth,  mayn't  know  it, 
but  the  wolves  have  been  prowling  around  here  in  reg'lar  troops, 
for  a  few  days  past ;  and  it  will  be  dark  now,  afore  you  can  get 
back  to  the  cottage.  I  had  a  set-to  with  a  rascally  troop  of 
them,  last  night." 

Ralph  thanked  Guthrie  for  his  caution,  although  ho  was  half 
angry  at  the  interruption,  at  that  particular  moment  of  time,  and 
intimated  to  Ruth  that  perhaps  they  had  better  return.  Ruth 
assented,  the  horses  were  unfastened,  and  they  proceeded  at 
a  leisurely  pace  towards  home,  although  more  rapidly  than  they 
had  come. 

The  labor  and  perplexity  of  making  their  way  along  the  rough 
path  and  among  the  underbrush  were  such  as  to  prevent  any 
continued  conversation.  By  the  time  they  had  traveled  half  a 
mile,  the  sun,  with  a  broad,  ruddy  glow,  had  sunk  behind  the 
frestem  hills.    The  twilight  in  the  midst  of  the  forest  soon  gftT« 


40  THK      FR0NTIER8HB9. 

way  to  a  deep  shade,  which  rendere-d  their  path  still  mort  dilH* 
cult. 

Ralph,  who  had  at  first  inwardly  cursed  the  interruption  made 
by  Guthrie,  in  a  conversation  which  had  reached  a  point  most 
deeply  interesting  to  him,  now  almost  wished  that  it  had  occur- 
red a  little  earlier.  Ruth  evidently  entertained  the  same  thought, 
for  her  countenance  exhibited  much  anxiety. 

"  Guthrie's  advice  was  reasonable,  most  certainly,"  she  said, 
"  although  it  was  not  given  in  the  most  civil  manner." 

*'  It  was  somewhat  later  than  I  thought,"  answered  Ralph, 
''  but  we  shall  reach  home  in  an  hour  more,  at  least.  But  who 
is  this  Guthrie  ?  I  believe  I  saw  him  at  your  father's  on  the 
night  of  my  arrival." 

"Nothing  is  known  of  him,  with  certainty,"  replied  Ruth. 
"  He  has  a  shanty  somewhere  below  here,  where  he  lives  alone. 
subsisting  upon  such  game  as  he  finds,  and  upon  the  trade  he 
drives  at  the  settlements.  He  is  supposed  to  have  been  a  Tory, 
and  to  have  been  leagued  with  the  Indians  of  this  region ; 
although  we  merely  suspect  it — we  do  not  know  it." 

"  He  has  an  ill-favored  countenance.  He  wears  one  of  those 
peculiar  faces,  that  we  always  distrust.  Is  he  often  at  your 
father's  ?" 

"  Not  very  frequently ;  we  entertained  the  same  distrust  of 
him  you  have  expressed,  on  first  seeing  him,  and  that  feeling  has 
rather  increased  than  diminished,  with  only  a  very  short  aC' 
quaintance." 

"  He  has  certainly  rendered  us  a  favor  on  this  occasion,"  said 
Ralph,  who  found  their  progress  was  momently  becoming  more 
diflBcult,  as  the  darkness  increased. 

It  was  just  at  this  instant,  that  a  long  howl  was  heard  at 
some  distance  behind  them,  but  apparently  from  the  westward. 
In  the  stillness  and  darkness  which  encompassed  them,  it  had  a 
melancholy  and  threatening  sound,  which  was  far  from  agreeable. 
Scarcely  a  moment  had  elapsed  ere  the  howl  which  they  had 
heard  was  answered  from  the  opposite  direction ;  and  almost 
simultaneously  it  seemed  to  be  echoed  by  a  hundred  discordant 
throats. 

"  The  wolves  !"  exclaimed  Ralph  and  Ruth,  together.    "  But,' 
said  Ralph,  "  perhaps  they  have  not  scented  us,  and  we  may  have 
nothing  to  fear  from  them." 

"  Hsaven  grant  that  it  may  be  so,"  earnestly  replied  Ruth ; 
but  as  if  at  once  to  end  their  hopes,  the  cries  were  again  heard, 
sharper  and  wilder.  Just  at  this  moment  the  moon  arose,  and 
began  to  throw  a  misty  and  uncertain  light  through  the  forest. 
Ralph  seized  the  horse  upon  which  Ruth  was  mounted  by  the 
bits,  and  the  animals  were  at  once  urged  to  the  greatest  speed 
which  the  difficulties  of  their  path  would  allow.    The  horsea 


TBK      FRONTIERSMEN.  41 

themselves  felt  the  alarm,  and  readily  yielded  to  the  impulse  of 
their  riders. 

The  cries  seemed  now  to  be  nearly  half  a  mile  behind  them ; 
and  Ralph  hoped,  at  the  least,  to  be  able  to  arrive  so  near  the 
house  of  Mr.  Barton,  that  assistance  could  be  immediately  afford- 
ed. But  in  spite  of  all  their  exertions,  the  path  was  so  intricate, 
owing  to  the  thick  underbrush  and  the  overhanging  branches  of 
trees,  together  with  the  rough  and  uneven  surface  of  the  ground, 
that  the  utmost  care  was  necessary  to  prevent  the  falling  of  the 
horses,  on  the  one  hand,  and  to  guard  against  being  thrown 
from  them  by  the  branches  which  were  constantly  projecting 
before  them,  on  the  other. 

On  they  rode,  with  as  much  rapidity  as  the  utmost  limit  of 
safety  would  allow.  They  well  knew  that  their  only  hope  of 
safety  depended  upon  their  being  able  to  keep  mounted  and  in 
flight ;  for  were  any  accident  to  happen  to  their  horses,  they 
would  be  left,  in  the  midst  of  the  wilderness,  at  the  mercy  of 
the  ferocious  beasts  that  were  on  their  track.  But  their  pur- 
suers gained  upon  them  ;  the  howls  which  but  a  few  moments 
since  seemed  fully  half  a  mile  behind,  were  now  evidently 
within  a  much  less  distance.  The  woods  appeared  to  be  alive 
with  their  enemies.  The  discordant  cries  filled  every  avenue  of 
sound.  Faster,  faster  ran  the  horses — but  still  nearer  approached 
the  sound  of  the  cowardly  pack — cowardly  when  few  in  numbers, 
but  savage  in  multitude. 

The  moonlight  lay  in  scattered  patches  in  the  forest,  but  every 
shadow  seemed  occupied  by  an  enemy.  The  pursuers  had  now 
approached  so  near,  that  Ralph  could  hear  the  crackling  of  the 
dry  underbrush  and  branches,  over  and  through  which  they  ran, 
amidst  the  noise  of  their  cries.  Looking  behind  him,  he  saw  the 
leaders  of  the  pack  leaping  upon  their  track,  and  in  the  moon- 
light saw,  with  terrible  distinctness,  their  glaring  eyes  and  pro- 
truded tongues.  The  horses  strained  every  muscle,  quivering 
with  affright,  but  the  wolves  were  approaching — were  almost 
upon  them  !  Snatching,  with  a  hurried  hand,  a  shawl  from  the 
shoulders  of  Ruth,  he  threw  it  behind  them.  For  a  moment  the 
chase  ceased  ;  and  with  wild,  ferocious  cries,  the  pack  gathered 
around  the  object  which  had  been  so  opportunely  offered  to 
them.  At  that  instant,  when  the  last  hope  had  nearly  vanished, 
the  eyes  of  the  travelers  encountered  in  the  path  before  them  the 
form  of  an  Indian,  who,  with  outstretched  arms,  requested  them 
to  stop.  In  a  moment  they  approached  him,  when  with  a  rapid 
utterance,  he  exclaimed : 

"  Me  friend ;  me  Tuscarora — come !"  and  suddenly  seizing  the 
horses  by  the  bits,  he  led  them  three  or  four  rods  from  the  path, 
where  they  saw  before  them,  in  the  midst  of  the  forest,  4 
smaU  log  hut}  although  m  an  extremely  ruinoua  conditioii,  H 


4^  THE      FRONTIERSMi&A 

afforded  the  protection  which,  but  a  few  minutes  before,  seemed 
utterly  withheld  from  them. 

Again  were  heard  the  cries  of  the  wolves,  and  the  noise  of 
their  approach !  Ralph  leaped  from  his  horse,  and  at  once 
lifted  Ruth  from  the  saddle,  who,  until  that  moment,  had  pre- 
served her  courage  and  fortitude,  but  now  fell  fainting  into 
his  arms.  He  bore  her  instantly  into  the  hut,  where  the  Tusca- 
rora  rapidly  brought  in  the  horses  after  them ;  and  the  door  waa 
closed,  just  as  the  ferocious  pack  came  rushing  into  the  opea 
«p&ce  before  the  but. 


fBK      rBOMTIEBSMIV.  4S 


CHAPTER    VI. 

"  And  then  to  mark  the  lord  of  all, 
The  forest  hero,  trained  to  wars, 
Quivered  and  plumed,  and  lithe  and  tall, 
And  seamed  with  glorious  scars." 

Bryant. 

Ralph,  as  we  have  said,  bore  his  fainting  burden  into  the  hut 
and  the  Tuscarora,  having  secured  the  frightened  horses,  at  one* 
hastend  to  his  assistance.  Ruth,  in  a  few  moments,  became  par- 
tially restored ;  and  a  blush  lit  up  the  pallor  of  her  countenance, 
as  she  found  herself  sustained  in  the  arms  of  Ralph  Partially 
withdrawing  from  his  support,  she  said: 

'•  You  must  be  astonished,  Captain  Weston,  that  a  woodman's 
daughter  had  so  litle  fortitude  as  to  be  unable  to  withstand  the 
ordinary  perils  of  her  condition.  I  almost  feel  that  I  owe  you 
an  apology." 

"  You  have  no  reason  to  be  ashamed  of  your  want  of  fortitude, 
Miss  Barton,"  answered  Ralph.  "  The  courage  with  which  you 
endured  that  terrible  ride  was  amazing.  You  have  more,  much 
more,  than  sustained  your  reputation  as  a  woodman's  daughter." 

Ralph  now,  for  the  first  time,  observed  the  Tuscarora,  who 
was  standing  silently  before  him  leaning  upon  his  rifle.  The 
Indian  was  of  little  more  than  medium  height,  and  straight  as 
an  arrow.  His  form  was  rather  slight  than  otherwise,  but  was 
fully  developed,  and  gave  evidence  of  great  agility  and  strength. 
His  countanance  was  open  and  frank ;  and  in  his  present  attitude 
of  repose,  one  would  not  have  thought  that  he  possessed  those 
peculiar  qualities  of  the  Indian,  which  we  are  apt  to  associate 
with  our  recollections  of  that  rapidly  wasting  race.  He  looked 
like  a  true  lord  of  the  forest, — cold  and  impassive  in  demeanor, 
—but  concealing  beneath  that  grave  exterior  a  fountain  of  terri- 
ble passions.  He  had  not  yet  passed  the  age  of  "  youth,"  for  not 
more  than  thirty  times,  to  him,  had  the  leaves  of  autumn  fallen ; 
yet  his  youth  seemed  extinguished  in  the  gravity  of  the  war- 
rior. 

Ralph  could  not  resist  a  feeling  of  admiration  at  the  well-built 
frame  and  noble  countenance  of  the  Tuscarora ;  and  advancing 
towards  him,  he  grasped  him  by  the  hand. 

"  Tuscarora,"  said  he,  "  you  have  this  night  rendered  this 
young  lady  and  myself  a  service,  for  which  we  shall  ever  be  grate- 
ful ;  you  have  preserved  our  lives." 

The  Indian,  with  a  modest  gesture,  seemed  to  disclaini  th« 
gratitude  which  Ralph  so  freely  expressed — then  quietly  said : 

•'Tuscarora  friend  to  the  colonv  oale-face — me  no  Kings  Iiyitt— 


44  fHK      FSONTIERSHEN. 

me  do  my  duty  to  friend.    Young  people  careless — all  hetrt— 
no  eyes — no  mind  wolves ; — me  know — me  waited  for  'em.' 

"  I  did  not  know."  said  Ralph,  "  that  the  wolves  of  this  sectionr 
ever  attacked  men." 

"No  often;  but  get  hungry  sometimes — then  ugly — then 
must  look  out.    Hear  that  ?" 

Since  our  travelers  had  entered  their  place  of  safety,  the  forest 
seemed  to  be  alive  with  the  unearthly  howls  of  the  beasts,  whose 
din  increased  at  the  loss  of  their  prey.  They  had  rushed  up  to 
the  sides  of  the  hut ;  and,  as  the  Tuscarora  answered  Ralph,  a 
number  of  them  had  evidently  leaped  against  the  door  and  the 
sides  of  the  building  with  a  savage  ferocity. 

"  Me  have  fun,  now,"  said  the  Tuscarora,  advancing  towards 
one  of  the  numerous  loop-holes  of  the  hut,  which  had  been  made 
by  its  builder  for  its  defence.  "  Me  shoot — give  'em  something 
to  howl  for." 

His  rifle  was  discharged,  and  for  a  moment,  the  din  outside 
completely  ceased ;  but  as  the  pack  saw  one  of  their  number  fall, 
their  cries  increased  in  ferocity,  until  they  became  almost  deafen- 
ing. Ralph  advanced  to  one  of  the  loop-holes,  and  looked  out  upon 
the  savage  crowd  of  beasts,  which  seemed  determined  to  besiege 
them  into  a  surrender.  As  well  as  he  could  observe  in  the 
moonlight,  there  appeared  to  be  forty  or  fifty  of  them,  standmg 
before  and  prowling  about  the  hut,  with  their  faces  upturned — 
and  their  eyes  gleaming  like  balls  of  fire. 

The  North  American  wolf  is  naturally  a  cowardly  animal ;  and 
never,  when  alone,  dares  to  attack  a  man.  The  animal  has  become, 
in  the  section  of  country  of  which  we  are  now  writing,  entirely 
extinct.  Mean,  thievish,  cowardly  in  disposition,  they  always 
fled  from  an  encounter  with  a  human  creature,  except  when 
frenzied  with  hunger,  and  gathered  in  large  packs.  At  such 
times,  they  become  extremely  dangerous ;  yet,  even  then,  any 
resistance  which  seemed  able  to  withstand  their  attack,  at  once 
disconcerted  them. 

The  Indian  again  loaded  his  rifle,  and  again  it  was  discharged- 
Another  wolf  was  kUled  ;  and  although  they  still  kept  up  their 
clamor,  they  began  to  retreat  to  a  distance  from  an  enemy  who 
had  so  much  advantage  of  them. 

"  Wolf  run,"  said  the  Tuscarora  ;  "  wolf  no  like  rifle — they  got 
no  heart — cowards !"  and,  as  if  he  disdained  the  firing  upon  so 
mean  a  foe,  after  reloading  his  rifle,  he  came  towards  Ralph,  and 
quietly  sat  down  on  a  rough  bench  by  the  side  of  the  hut. 

"  Wolf  run  away,"  said  he — "  they  gone  soon — then  you  go 
home. 

"  We  have  our  lives  to  thank  you  for,  Tuscarora,"  said  Ruth, 
with  a  look  of  gratitude,  "  and  my  father  will  always  be  glad 
to  welcome  you  to  the  cottage.    Will  you  not  return  with  us?" 

*^  Not  now— m»y  be  by-'m-by." 


THE      rBONTIERSMIir.  4& 

"  Is  your  nation  in  this  territory  now  ?"  asked  Ralph. 

"  Me  got  no  nation,"  said  the  Indian,  sorrowfully.  "  Tuscaronui 
once  great — away  south.  Then  had  great  many  warriors — then 
they  great  nation — but  most  all  gone,  now." 

"  Are  not  your  people  and  the  Oneidas  brethren  ?" 

"  Oneidas  are  brothers — love  Oneidas." 

"  Why  are  you  here  in  this  section  alone,  Tuscarora,  with  noiM 
of  your  brethren  near  you  ?"  abruptly  asked  Ralph. 

The  Indian  looked  at  him  steadily  for  a  moment,  and  then 
replied : 

"  My  young  friend  is  wise.  The  white  men  all  ask  questions- 
no  good  for  Injin  to  answer  questions ;"  and  he  fell  into  a  gloomy 
and  listless  posture,  and  refused,  for  the  time,  to  hold  any  fur- 
ther conversation. 

The  silence  of  the  Tusc«,rora  was  somewhat  embarrassing  to 
Ralph  ;  and  he  again  went  towards  the  loop-holes  to  reconnoitre 
the  present  position  of  the  enemy.  The  howls  had  almost  entirely 
ceased ;  and  what  few  were  heard,  seemed  to  be  twenty-five  or 
thirty  rods  distant.  Just  as  he  reached  the  loop-hole,  he  heard 
a  rifle  discharged  on  the  outside,  and  a  voice  which  he  recognized 
as  th^t  of  Ichabod,  which  made  the  woods  ring  again  with 
a  loud  halloo. 

The  Indian  started  abruptly  from  his  seat,  and  both  he  and 
Ralph  advanced  towards  the  door.  On  opening  it,  they  discov- 
ered at  the  distance  of  ten  rodo  three  men  who  were  rapidly 
approaching  the  hut.  As  they  came  from  among  the  shadows 
of  the  trees  into  the  bright  moonlight,  which  lay  in  the  small 
opening  in  front  of  the  hut,  Ralph  recognized  Barton  and  Icha- 
bod accompanied  by  the  negro. 

The  moment  they  were  discovered  by  the  party.  Barton  ran 
towards  Ralph,  exclaiming,  "  Is  she  safe,  Ralph — is  she  safe  ?" 

Scarcely  was  the  question  asked,  before  Ruth  was  in  her 
father's  arms.  "jQod  bless  thee,  girl,"  said  he;  "I  hardly  dared 
hope  ever  to  see  thee  again,"  and  the  tears  rolled  down  his  manly 
face. 

"  For  this  joy,  my  father,  we  have  to  thank  this  good  Indian 
here.     He  it  was  who  saved  us." 

The  Indian,  during  this  scene,  had  silently  withdrawn  into  a 
deep  shadow  which  fell  by  the  side  of  the  hut.  There  he  stood, 
leaning  upon  his  rifle,  seemingly  as  passionless  and  unconcerned 
AS  the  shadow  within  which  he  stood. 

Barton  went  up  to  him,  and  grasped  him  by  the  hand.  '^You 
have  this  day."  said  he,  "  in  rescuing  my  daughter,  saved  both 
her  life  and  my  own.     How  can  I  thank  you  ?" 

The  Tuscarora  remained  unmoved.  "  No  thanks,"  said  he. 
'  The  Great  Spirit  smiles  when  his  children  do  their  duty.  Tu»» 
carora  likes  colony  pale-face.  The  Gre^t  Spirit  sent  me  her©  « 
thank  him,  not  poor  Tuscarora." 


46  \jAE    frontiersmen. 

"You  say  right,  Tuscarora.  God  hath  preserved  my  child 
this  day.     To  Him  be  thanks,  who  taketh  and  giveth." 

Scarcely  had  the  first  sound  issued  from  the  mouth  of  the 
Tuscarora,  when  Ichabod  rapidly  approached  him.  The  Indian 
gave  him  a  glance  of  recognition,  and  silently  took  his  hand. 

"  Eagle's  VVing,  as  I  live  !"  exclaimed  he.  "  Glad  to  see  you 
again,  old  friend.  I  haven't  seen  you  since  we  were  down  here 
on  that  last  war-path." 

Canendesha,  as  the  Tuscarora  was  named  by  his  own  people, 
bore  also  the  name  of  Eagle's  Wing,  which  had  been  bestowed 
upon  him  not  only  fDr  his  boldness  in  fight,  but  for  the  keenness 
and  rapidity  with  which  he  followed  the  trail  of  an  enemy. 
When  he  heard  himself  thus  called  by  his  name  of  honor,  he 
drew  himself  up  with  pride  as  he  replied  : 

"  Three  summers  and  winters  have  destroyed  the  marks  of 
the  war-path.  I  have  dwelt  in  the  wigwams  of  my  people,  and 
near  by  the  fires  of  the  Oneidas." 

In  the  meantime  Barton  had  approached  Ralph,  and  testified 
scarcely  less  joy  at  his  deliverance  than  he  had  at  that  of  Ruth. 
Ichabod  and  Eagle's  Wing  had  withdrawn  still  further  from 
observation  into  the  shadow. 

"  Eagle's  Wing,"  said  Ichabod,  imitating  the  language  of  the 
Tuscarora,  "is  wise.  He  dwells  in  peace  in  the  wigwams  of  his 
people.     But  why  is  he  here — two  days'  march  from  his  friends  ?'^ 

The  Indian  remained  silent  for  a  few  moments.  At  length  h© 
replied : 

"  I  am  in  the  hunting-grounds  of  my  people.  The  heart  of 
Eagle's  Wing  is  filled  with  peace." 

"  Yes,  yes,  old  friend,"  said  Ichabod,  resuming  his  usual  man- 
ner of  expression.  "  You  and  I  have  been  on  a  good  many  war- 
paths together.  I  know  a  Tuscarora  and  Oneida  just  as  well  as 
I  know  a  Seneca  or  Mohawk.  I  know  your  people  are  gentle- 
men born,  and  I  know  them  others  are  reptiles.  You  can't 
deceive  we.  Eagle's  Wing — you  are  on  a  trail  ?" 

"  The  eyes  of  my  brother  are  keen — he  has  followed  the  war- 
path.    Has  he  crossed  the  trail  of  an  enemy  ?" 

The  Indian  uttered  this  with  a  countenance  so  unmoved,  and 
with  such  an  expression  of  sincerity,  that  Ichabod  began  to 
think  the  Tuscarora  had  nothing  to  conceal  from  him.  He  said, 
however,  in  reply :      "" 

"  I  know  your  heart  is  true,  Eagle's  Wing ;  but  I  rather 
thought,  at  first,  you  might  be  following  up  some  devil  of  a 
Seneca.     But  them  varmints  have  left  these  parts,  I  s'pose." 

"  My  brother  is  wise,"  softly  replied  the  Tuscarora,  but  at  the 
same  time  with  a  quiet  expression  of  victory  in  the  glance  which 
he  cast  towards  Ichabod.  The  glance  was  not  unnoticed,  and 
the  latter  at  once  saw  that  his  original  suspicions  were  correct. 
But  he  knew  it  would  be  useless  to  press  the  Tuscarora  with 


THE      FRONTIERSMEN.  41 

questions.  He  said  to  him,  however,  in  a  tone  that  convinced 
the  Indian  that  Ichabod  was  not  deceived : 

"  Well,  old  friend,  you  and  I  have  been  brothers  in  harder 
times  than  these ;  and  if  j'ou  need  the  help  of  this  rifle  here, 
which  is  an  old  acquaintance  of  your'n,  I  shall  take  it  in  dudgeon 
if  you  don't  call  on  me." 

The  Indian  still  remained  unmoved ;  but  Ichabod  could  see 
that  the  offer  was  kindly  received. 

At  this  moment,  Barton  approached,  and  invited  the  Tuscarora 
to  accompany  him  to  his  dwelling.  "  You  will  always  be  wel- 
come there,  and  I  hope  I  may  have  many  opportunities  to  testify 
to  you  my  gratitude." 

The  Tuscarora  courteously  declined  the  invitation  for  the  pre- 
sent, and  the  party  prepared  to  depart.  The  horses  were  led 
out,  and  the  party  proceeded  to'^/'ards  the  cottage,  while  Eagle's 
Wing,  remained  as  long  as  he  could  be  observed,  still  leaning 
upon  his  rifle  in  front  of  the  hut. 

The  party  journeyed  for  some  distance  without  conversation, 
until  Ralph  at  length  asked  Ichabod,  who  seemed  to  be  much 
less  talkative  than  usual,  how  they  who  were  at  the  cottage  had 
so  soon  learned  the  danger  which  Ruth  and  he  were  in,  from 
the  pursuit  of  the  wolves. 

"  Learn  !"  answered  Ichabod.  "  Why,  you  see  the  old  Squire, 
'long  towards  dusk,  began  to  get  considerable  uneasy,  from  some 
cause  or  other — either  because  he  had  heard  more  about  them 
infarnal  varmints,  lately,  than  he  chose  to  tell,  or  else  because 
Sambo  teazed  him  until  he  ra'ally  thought  you  was  in  some 
danger  ;  and  so  he  proposed  to  me  to  walk  with  him  along  down 
the  road,  until  we  met  you.  We'd  got  in  just  about  a  mile  of 
that  shanty,  when  we  heard  the  yells  of  them  pestiferous  cre'turs 
I  tell  you.  Captain,  them  would  have  been  tough  customers  to 
have  come  to  a  close  fight  with." 

"  I  was  entirely  unarmed,"  said  Ralph,  "  but  I  had  no  reason 
to  expect  meeting  an  enemy  of  any  kind ;  and  least  of  all  did  I 
suppose  we  should  run  any  danger  from  such  an  enemy." 

"  Them  varmints,"  replied  Ichabod,  "  when  they've  once  had 
a  taste  of  human  blood,  are  as  hungry  for  it  as  Senecas  are  for 
scalps — coTz-found  'em." 

"  I  know  the  prevalent  opinion  in  some  portions  of  Europe — 
in  Germany,  for  instance,  of  the  ferocity  of  wolves.  There  is  an 
old  superstition  of  Weird-wolves,  of  which  I  have  heard." 

Ralph  explained,  by  giving  an  account  of  this  peculiar  super- 
stition. In  Germany,  and  in  the  Netherlands,  and  in  some  other 
portions  of  Europe,  the  opinion  had  been  prevalent  among  the 
people,  that  there  were  certain  sorcerers,  who,  having  anointed 
their  bodi^  with  ointment,  the  preparation  of  which,  they  Lad 
learned  from  the  devil,  and  having  put  on  an  enchanted  girdla 
so  long  as  they  wore  it,  appeared,  to  the  eyes  of  others,  iikt 


48  THS      FBONTIERSMSir. 

woives ;  and  who  possessed  the  same  ferocity  and  appetite  tot 
human  blood,  as  the  animals  they  were  believed  to  resemble. 
A  large  number  of  persons  in  these  countries  had  been  executed, 
who  were  supposed  to  be  guilty  of  that  offence.  They  were  gene- 
rally known  as  Weird- wolves. 

This  popular  superstition,  indeed,  has  survived  in  some  portions 
of  Europe,  until  this  day.  In  the  "  Arabian  Night's  Entertain- 
ments," the  unhappy  subjects  of  this  superstition  were  denomi- 
nated "  ghouls,'*  but  in  the  west  they  were  known  by  the  name 
we  have  already  mentioned.  A  circumstance  occurred  in  Paris, 
in  1849,  which  seemed  to  throw  more  light  upon  the  nature  of 
this  superstition,  and  to  prove  indeed,  that  there  was  a  pretty 
good  foundation  for  the  popular  belief.  Like  the  delusion  under 
which  many  of  those  unhappy  persons  labored  in  the  days  of 
the  "  Salem  witchcraft,"  who  really  believed  themselves  to  be 
what  their  judges  pronounced  them,  so  these  Weird-wolves  were 
undoubtedly  insane  persons,  who  fancied  themselves  possessed  of 
the  wolfish  form  and  nature. 

"  I  have  heard,"  said  Barton,  who  now  joined  in  the  conversa- 
tion, "of  many  instances  in  our  northern  settlements,  where 
people  have  been  attacked  by  these  animals ;  but,  although  it  is 
a  frequent  occurence  for  them  to  disturb  the  whole  country  about 
here  with  their  howls  by  night,  I  had  never  apprehended  any 
such  danger  from  them.  But  we  ought  to  be  thankful  that  there 
is  no  worse  enemy  about  here." 

Ichabod,  whose  mind,  ever  since  his  conversation  with  the 
Tuscarora,  had  been  occupied  with  thoughts  that  did  not  seem 
very  agreeable  to  him,  started  at  this  remark,  and  said,  slowly — 

"  Well,  squire,  I  hope  you  mayn't  be  able  to  change  that  last 
remark  of  your'n  by  to-morrow  this  time." 

Ralph,  who  knew  Ichabod  well  enough  to  know  that  however 
unsafe  his  opinion  might  be  upon  subjects  relating  to  money- 
making,  yet  that,  upon  all  the  perils  and  dangers  incident  to  a 
forest  life,  he  possessed  an  excellent  judgment,  with  some  anxi- 
ety asked  him  for  an  explanation. 

The  whole  party  had  caught  the  alarm ;  and  Ichabod,  with  a 
mixture  of  pride  at  finding  himself  in  such  an  important  position, 
and  of  sorrow  at  the  information  he  felt  bound  to  communicate, 
answered — 

"You  see.  Eagle's-^ing  and  I  are  old  friends.  We\e  foiU 
many  a  battle  agin  them  cussed  Senecas  and  Onondagas ;  and  I 
reckon  I  know  an  Injin,  and  can  read  him  through  pretty  tolera- 
bly easy.  Now  Eagle's- Wing  isn't  down  here  for  nothing ;  and 
though  his  Injin  blood  wouldn't  let  him  tell  me  what  kind  of 
speculation  he  is  on,  yet  I  know  he's  on  a  trail  of  some  sort. 
You  can  always  tell  an  Injin  when  he's  after  an  enemy.'' 

"  But  what  enemy,"  asked  Barton,  "  can  he  be  pursuing  in 
this  direction  1    There  can  be  no  large  bodj  of  hostile  Indians 


THE      FR0NT1EBSME9.  49 

in  these  forests;  for  Guthrie,  who  is  a  woodsman,  and  wYio 
would  at  once  have  discovered  the  fact,  would  have  communi- 
cated the  intelligence  to  us.  I  think  there  can  be  no  ground  for 
apprehension." 

"  I  don't  know  about  that,  Squire,"  replied  Ichabod,  "  but  Vtl 
sure  something's  in  the  wind ;  and  if  you  take  my  advice,  you'll 
prepare  for  defence.  As  for  Guthrie,  as  you  call  him,  you  know 
best  about  him  ;  he's  got  a  miserable,  hang-dog  face,  any  way.' 

Although  thefe  was  much  plausibility  in  the  opinion  of  Barton 
and  Ichabod's  apprehensions  did  not  seem  to  be  well-grounded, 
yet  Ralph,  who  knew  that  Ichabod  had  not  given  this  advice 
without  reflection,  also  advised  Barton  at  once  to  take  means  of 
defense  against  any  attack  which  might  be  made  upon  the  cot- 
tage. 

Barton  yielded  to  the  solicitations  of  Ralph  and  Ichabod; 
and  the  party  having  arrived  at  the  cottage.  Sambo  was  at  once 
despatched  to  drive  in  the  cattle  into  an  enclosure  which  had 
been  constructed  upon  the  west  side  of  the  house.  This  yard 
was  guarded  upon  all  sides  by  an  enclosure  of  logs  some  ten  or 
twelve  feet  in  height,  and  had  been  prepared  expressly  for  the 
purpose  for  which  it  was  now  used.  Its  construction  had  been 
deemed  necessary  by  Barton  for  the  purpose  of  protecting  his 
cattle  in  case  of  an  attack  by  Indians,  as  well  as  to  protect  them 
from  wolves  or  bears,  which  were  occasionally  seen  prowling 
around  the  premises. 

The  house  itself,  as  we  have  before  remarked,  was  adapted 
for  defence  against  any  outward  attack  from  such  means  of  war- 
fare as  Indians  would  be  likely  to  attempt.  The  outside  doors 
were  heavy,  and  were  secured  by  strong  bars,  which  would 
resist  any  ordinary  force  that  might  be  applied  to  them.  The 
windows  in  the  lower  story  were  fitted  with  strong  blinds,  which 
it  would  be  impossible  to  remove  from  the  outside.  In  the  sec- 
ond story,  the  windows  were  guarded  by  long  hickory  bars 
which  haid  been  morticed  into  the  logs,  while  loop-holes  had  been 
provided,  through  which  an  attack  might  be  repelled. 

The  house  was  put  into  a  complete  state  of  defense.  The 
rifles  were  all  loaded,  and  placed  in  a  position  where  they  could 
be  readily  obtained,  in  case  they  should  be  needed.  Thus  pre- 
pared, the  family  at  length  retired  to  rest,  the  negro  having  been 
ordered  to  keep  watch  during  the  night. 


10  THE      FRONTIEBSMSV 


CHAPTER    VII. 

•  I;  la  not  a  time  for  idle  grief, 
Nor  a  time  for  tears  to  flow ; 
The  horror  that  freezes  his  limbs  ia  brief- 
He  grasps  his  war-axe  and  bow,  and  a  sheaf 
Of  darts  made  sharp  for  the  foe." 

Bbtavt. 

As  BfOHT  be  inferred  from  the  scenes  and  excitements  of  the 
preeeding  day,  the  inmates  of  the  cottage  did  not  seek  the  night's 
repose  with  the  accustomed  feelings  of  tranquility  and  safety, 
Ruth  went  over  again  in  memory  the  events  of  the  day.  and  she 
could  not  conceal  from  her  own  mind  the  fact  that  Ralph  Weston 
was  much  more  to  her  than  an  ordinary  stranger.  Having  known 
him  in  youth,  she  had  always  esteemed  the  leading  traits  of  his 
character ;  and  she  now  felt  that  esteem  ripening  into  a  passion 
which  bears  a  much  more  tender  name. 

As  for  Ralph,  he  had  not  needed  to  pass  through  any  such 
excitements  or  dangers,  as  Ruth  and  he  had  that  day  encounter- 
ed, to  adjust  any  wavering  balance  of  affection.  He  had  seen 
Miough  to  perfectly  satisfy  him  that  Ruth  looked  upon  him  with 
no  indifference ;  and  notwithstanding  the  preparations  for  defense 
and  the  unpleasant  ideas  which  the  prospect  of  an  Indian  attack 
would  be  likely  to  excite,  he  sank  into  a  pleasant  slumber,  and 
was  willingly  borne  off  into  the  region  of  fairy  dreams. 

Ichabod  had  no  such  potent  specific  with  which  to  drown  care 
and  reflection.  The  Tuscarora,  and  his  probable  object  in  visit- 
ing the  valley — his  mysterious  manner  during  their  brief  conver- 
sation— were  ever  present  to  his  mind ;  and  after  tossing  about 
restlessly  on  his  bed  until  nearly  daylight,  he  arose  with  the 
resolution  of  seeking  an  explanation  of  the  mystery  His  prepa- 
rations were  made  in  silence,  and  without  disturbing  any  of  the 
inmates  of  the  house.  Throwing  his  rifle  across  his  arm,  and 
fastening  into  a  belt  which  he  buckled  around  him  a  large  hun- 
ting-knife, he  noiselessly  descended  into  the  lower  part  of  the 
building. 

In  the  gloom  which  pervaded  the  room  into  which  Ichabod 
entered,  it  was  some  time  before  be  discovered  Sambo,  who  had 
been  stationed  there  to  keep  watc\  during  the  night.  He  at 
length  espied  him,  sitting  in  a  chair  before  the  huge  fire-place, 
with  his  head  bent  upon  his  breanf;,  in  a  most  unmistakable 
attitude  of  slumber.  Ichabod  had  noit  f7rf(>tten  the  grinning  of 
the  negro,  at  his  exploits  in  fishing  th^  (Kf^  b*>^re,  and  he  wa» 


THK       FRONTIERSUKH.  61 

irilling  to  giye  him  a  sufficient  fright  to  punish  Ziim  a  little. 
Advancing  noiselessly  towards  him,  he  placed  one  hand  on  the 
top  of  his  woolly  head,  and  with  a  rapid  motion  of  the  other  imi- 
tated the  circular  cutting  used  in  the  process  of  scalping,  im- 
printing his  thumb-nail  with  suflBcient  force  into  the  skin,  to  give 
the  sleeping  negro  a  distinct  impression  of  that  disagreeable 
operation. 

As  the  whole  family  for  that  night  had  retired  to  the  upper 
part  of  the  house,  Ichabod  knew  that  he  should  be  able  to  stifle 
the  cries  of  the  negro,  so  that  no  one  in  the  building  would  be 
alarmed. 

The  moment  Sambo  felt  the  impression  of  the  thumb-nail  on 
his  skin,  he  awoke  with  a  scream  of  fear  ;  but  Ichabod  rapidly 
closed  his  mouth  with  one  of  his  heavy  hands. 

'•  Oh  gor-a-massy — massa  Injin  !  I'm  scalped.  0  Lor' !  O 
Lor' !  exclaimed  the  negro ;  and  in  his  distress  he  tumbled  down 
upon  the  floor  under  the  impression  that  he  was  about  to  give 
up  the  ghost. 

Ichabod,  who  saw  that  he  had  carried  the  joke  as  far  as  safety 
to  the  negro  would  allow,  lifted  him  up  into  the  chair. 

"  There,  you  black  devil !  go  to  sleep  will  you,  when  you're 
on  duty  7  You  (L/  that  again,  and  we'll  have  you  hung  by  the 
articles  of  war." 

The  negro,  who  was  perfectly  willing  to  escape  a  scalping  for 
the  present,  by  a  prospect  of  hanging  in  the  future,  speedily  recov- 
ered from  his  fright. 

"  0  gor-a-massy,  'twas  you,  was  it,  Massa  Jenkins  ?  Know'd 
it  was  you,  all  the  while  !  Needn't  think  you  could  come  pos- 
sum over  this  nigger,  any  how;  I  jist  set  down  in  the  chair  to 
listen  a  little." 

Ichabod,  who  was  amused  at  the  assurance  of  the  negro,  advised 
him  not  to  listen  in  that  manner  any  more,  or  he  would  get 
scalped  in  earnest.  Then  unbarring  the  door,  and  bidding  the 
negro  to  fasten  it  after  him,  and  to  inform  the  Squire  and  Cap- 
tain when  they  got  up,  that  he  should  be  back  in  an  hour  or  two, 
departed,  in  the  direction  of  the  shanty. 

It  was  now  nearly  day-light ;  and  the  first  silvery  rays  of  the 
morning  were  beginning  to  dispel  the  darkness.  The  moon  had 
set  sometime  before,  and  as  in  the  midst  of  the  forest,  it  was 
almost  impossible  to  discern  his  path,  it  was  necessary  that  he 
should  proceed  with  extreme  caution.  Following  noiselessly  the 
rough  path  over  which  Ralph  and  Miss  Barton  had  journeyed 
the  day  before^  he  hoped  to  reach  the  shanty  by  day-light. 

A  walk  through  the  forest  in  a  new  country  by  night,  to  one 
unaccustomed  to  it,  would  not  be  likely  to  excite  the  most  agree- 
able reflections.  But  Ichabod  had  in  other  times  been  used  to 
all  the  dangers  of  the  wilderness,  and  this  morning  walk  had  tt 
him  suflB*»«»*it  excitement  to  make  it  decidedly  a  pleasure. 


52  THE      FRONTIIBSMKir. 

As  he  journeyed  on,  the  silence  by  which  he  was  surrotmde4 
was  occassional ly  broken  by  the  distant  howl  of  a  wolf.  Scarcely 
had  the  melancholy  sound  died  in  the  echoes  of  the  forest,  ere  an 
owlet's  shriek  would  be  heard,  sharp  and  piercing,  by  his  side — 
and  in  the  next  moment  it  would  be  answered  by  a  cry  that 
came  mellowed  from  the  distance.  Then,  perhaps,  the  rustling 
of  dry  leaves,  or  the  cracking  of  a  dry  bough,  indicated  that 
some  small  animal  was  flying  from  his*  presence.  Occassionally 
stopping  for  a  moment,  to  listen  if  he  could  not  catch  sounds 
which  would  indicate  the  prjc>enue  o'  something  against  which 
it  would  be  necessary  to  guard  himselJ  he  continued  to  advance 
in  the  direction  of  the  hut,  whwie  on  the  evening  before  he  had 
encountered  the  Tuscarora. 

This  hut  or  shanty,  the  prticise  location  of  which,  with  refer- 
ence to  the  surrounding  country,  we  have  not  described,  was 
situated  about  a  mile  below  the  residence  of  Barton,  at  the  foot 
of  a  hill  which  gradually  rose  on  the  western  side  to  the  height 
of  one  hundred  and  fifty  or  two  hundred  feet.  On  the  east,  at 
the  distance  of  about  thirty  rods,  was  the  river.  Beyond  the 
river  were  flats  extending  nearly  half  a  mile  in  width ;  while 
nearly  opposite  the  hut,  a  small  stream  came  from  the  north- 
east, down  a  narrow  valley,  which  gave  to  the  valley  just  oppo- 
site the  hut  the  appearance  of  a  much  greater  width  than  it 
really  possessed. 

Ichabod  arrived  at  the  shanty  at  just  about  the  hour  he  had 
calculated  upon.  The  light  of  the  morning  had  begun  to  creep 
through  the  woods,  giving  to  objects  an  uncertain  appearance. 
He  approached  it  cautiously,  listening  if  he  might  not  hear  some 
sound  that  would  indicate  the  presence  of  the  Tuscarora.  Not 
receiving  any  such  indication,  he  touched  the  door,  which  noise- 
lessly opened,  when  he  entered  the  hut.  It  was  entirely  desert- 
ed, and  every  trace  of  its  recent  occupation  had  been  removed. 

This  caution  on  the  part  of  the  Tuscarora  was  strong  evidence 
to  Ichabod  that  enemies  were  near,  and  he  at  once  sa\f  the  object 
of  it.  In  case  the  hut  should  be  visited,  the  Indian  wished  it  to 
appear  as  if  it  had  not  been  disturbed,  so  that  no  clue  could  be 
obtained  to  his  motions. 

Ichabod,  who  was  an  adept  in  the  Indian  mode  of  warfare, 
endeavored  to  discover  in  which  direction  the  Tuscarora  had  de- 
parted. But  this  was  no  easy  undertaking.  He  looked  cau- 
tiously about  for  a  trail,  but  the  ground  had  been  so  much  trod- 
den the  night  before,  it  was  a  long  time  ere  he  could  discover  the 
print  of  the  occasional  foot  of  the  Indian,  and  then  only  by  the 
side  of  the  hut  where  he  had  conversed  with  him.  At  length, 
moving  off  to  the  distance  of  six  or  eight  rods  from  the  shanty, 
he  commenced  walking  about  it  in  a  circle  with  his  eyes  fastened 
upon  the  ground.  He  had  proceeded  but  a  few  rods  in  this  round 
beifore  he  disooyered  the  footprint  for  which  he  was  searching 


THK       FRONTIERSMlir.  53 

Th©  Tnfl'.an.  on  leaving  the  hut,  had  evidently  gone  in  a  south- 
easterly  direction  towards  the  river. 

The  point,  proceeding  in  the  line  taken  by  the  Tuscarora.  as 
which  he  would  reach  the  river,  would  be  at  just  about  a  hun- 
dred rods  from  the  shanty.  Ichabod  followed,  at  once,  in  this 
direction  ;  but  advancing  with  extreme  caution.  His  progress 
was  necessarily  slow,  as  he  was  obliged  not  only  to  examine  the 
ground  with  great  care  to  discovor  the  footprints  which  the  light 
step  of  the  Indian  had  made,  but  also  to  observe  if  there  were 
any  signs  of  other  Indians  in  the  vicinity.  At  length,  he  ap- 
proached the  river,  the  margin  of  which,  here,  was  covered  with 
a  thick  growth  of  willows  of  about  eight  or  ten  feet  in  height, 
which  rendered  it  almost  imnossible  to  get  a  glimpse  of  tb# 
water. 

He  had  arrived  within  two  rods  of  the  shore,  when.  i»v  once, 
he  lost  all  traces  of  the  Tuscarora.  He  was  searching  the 
ground  intently  to  regain  the  trail  he  had  lost,  when  he  heard 
a  slight  sound  in  the  direction  of  the  river,  like  that  made  by  a 
paddle  slightly  rubbing  the  side  of  a  canoe.  Stooping  so  as  to 
be  more  thoroughly  hidden  by  the  willows,  which  were  much 
thicker  towards  the  ground,  he  advanced  close  to  them,  and  en- 
ieavored  to  get  sight  of  the  object  which  had  attracted  hi« 
attention. 

It  will  be  necessary  to  explain,  a  little  more  fully,  the  precise 
situation  of  Ichabod  with  reference  to  the  river.  The  line  of  wil- 
lows we  have  mentioned,  was  about  six  or  eight  feet  in  width, 
and  run  in  a  north  and  south  line,  parallel  with  the  course  of 
the  river;  but  immediately  below  where  he  stood,  there  was  a 
thick  clump  of  them,  which  extended  some  twenty  feet  from  thf 
apparent  course  of  the  river,  directly  towards  the  forest ;  so  that 
Ichabod  was  not  only  protected  by  those  in  front,  but  he  occu- 
pied a  sort  of  cover  formed  by  them  xn  the  sudden  turn  which 
they  took  towards  the  west. 

Carefully  pulling  back  a  few  of  the  twigs  of  the  willows 
which  skirted  the  river,  and  which  impeded  his  observation,  he 
now  distinctly  heard  the  sound  of  a  canoe  approaching  from 
below.  The  river  was  here  about  six  rods  in  width,  and  was  of 
considerable  depth,  although  the  current  was  strong ;  which  lat- 
ter fact  accounted  for  the  sound  he  had  heard — some  effort  being 
required  to  urge  the  canoe  against  the  force  of  the  water. 

Shortly  the  canoe  came  in  sight.  Ichabod  started  as  he  beberd 
three  Indians  in  it,  whom  he  at  once  knew  to  be  Senecas.  His 
tirst  impulse  was  to  raise  his  rifle ;  but  a  moment's  reflection 
taught  him  that  such  a  course  would  be  unwise.  In  the  first 
place,  although  the  new  government  had  concluded  as  yet  no 
formal  treaty  of  peace  with  the  hostile  tribes  of  the  Six  Nations, 
v^t  as  it  was  tacitly  understood  that  such  a  treaty  would  soon 
be  made,  and  all  encounters  had  therefore  been  mutually  suspend 


54  THE      FRONTIERSUSir. 

ed  it  would  be  criminal  and  improper  to  attack  them  except  in 
self-defence,  or  the  defence  of  his  friends.  Another  reason,  also 
<came  to  his  aid — although  it  is  proper  to  mention  that  it  was  tne 
last  one  that  occurred  to  him — and  that  was,  that  if  he  suc- 
ceeded in  killing  or  disabling  one  of  the  Indians,  he  woud  still 
have  the  remaining  two  upon  his  hands,  without  possessing  any 
adequate  means  of  defending  himself;  while  it  was  more  than 
probable  that  there  were  other  Senecas  in  the  vicinity. 

The  Indians  were  moving  very  slowly  against  the  current,  and 
were  evidently  in  search  of  some  object  which  they  expected  to 
discover  along  the  shore.  Ichabod  recognized  one  of  these  In- 
dians as  a  subordinate  chief  of  the  Seneca  Nation,  whom  he  had 
encountered  in  some  of  the  conflicts  of  the  war  ;  but  who  pos- 
sessed a  high  reputation  among  his  people,  for  boldness  and 
cunning.  The  name  of  this  chief  was  Panther,  which  he  had 
received  from  the  characteristics  we  have  mentioned.  As  they 
came  in  sight,  the  canoe  was  not  more  than  twenty  feet  from  the 
position  occupied  by  Ichabod,  and  he  could  distinctly  hear  the 
conversation  between  the  chief  and  his  companions,  although  they 
conversed  in  a  low  tone.  Ichabod  had  learned  enough  of  the 
dialect  which  was  common  to  the  Six  Nations,  to  understand  at 
once,  the  purport  of  the  conversation.  We  will  endeavor  to 
translate,  for  the  benefit  of  the  reader,  the  language  of  the  Sene- 
cas: 

"  Me  no  understand,"  said  Panther ;  "  saw  canoe  here,  some- 
where.    No  get  out  of  water  without  seeing  it." 

"  Canoe  light ;  gone  up  river  p'raps,"  said  one  of  his  com- 
panions. 

"*  Canendesha  got  quick  eye,"  said  the  other  Seneca  j  ^  he  cun- 
ning Injin.     He  won't  let  scalp  go,  if  he  can  help  it." 

A  gleam  of  ferocity  passed  across  the  swai;thy  face  of  Panther. 
"  Canendesha  is  cunning  and  brave.  His  enemies  will  say  that  j 
but  he  has  got  the  scalp  of  a  Seneca,  and  I  shall  be  ashamed  to 
go  back  to  the  wigwams  of  my  nation,  if  I  do  not  take  his.  The 
Senecas  are  not  squaws,  to  let  a  Tuscarora  run  off  with  their 
scalps." 

Slowly  moving  against  the  current,  the  three  Indians  had  got 
both  out  of  sight  and  hearing  of  Ichabod.  Immediately  behind 
him  was  a  small  knoll  four  or  five  feet  in  height.  He  had  com- 
menced moving  towards  it  with  the  intention  of  getting  a  further 
view  of  the  Senecas,  whose  business  he  now  understood,  when 
his  attention  was  attracted  by  a  slight  waving  of  the  willows  in 
the  centre  of  the  clump  which  we  have  mentioned.  Glancing 
sharply  in  that  direction,  with  his  rifle  raised  in  a  position  to  fire 
should  it  be  necessary,  he  saw  an  Indian  emerging  from  the  wil- 
lows, whom  he  knew  at  once  to  be  the  Tuscarora. 

"No  get  my  scalp  this  time;"  said  Eagle's-Wing.  *'I  get 
another  scalp  first ;"  and  he  pointed  to  a  bleeding  trophy  of  • 


THE      FRONTIERSMEN  65 

recent  encounter,  with  all  the  pride  with  which  a  victorious  gen- 
era]  would  have  pointed  to  the  capture  of  the  standards  and 
munitions  of  war  of  a  vanquished  enemy. 

"  What's  the  meaning  of  all  this,  Eagle's-Wing  ?"  asked  Icha- 
bod.  with  evident  disgust  at  beholding  the  bleeding  trophy. 
"  Why  has  Canendesha  dug  up  the  hatchet,  when  the  pale-faces 
and  their  Indian  allies  have  buried  it  ?" 

'*  I  no  dig  it  up,"  answered  the  Tuscarora,  with  energy ;  "  Sene- 
ca dig  it  up.  I  must  have  Panther's  scalp  too,"  and  he  was 
ibout  following  the  canoe  up  the  river. 

''  Stop  a  moment,  Eagle's-Wing,"  exclaimed  Ichabod,  who 
laid  his  strong  hand  on  the  shoulder  of  his  friend.  "  I  want  to 
know  the  meaning  of  all  this  ;  you  must  not  go  after  them  In- 
iins  now.  I  hate  a  Seneca,  on  general  principles,  as  much  as  you 
do  ;  but  it  won't  do  to  go  scalping  round  in  these  days,  without 
good  reason  for  it.  Let  me  know  what's  the  matter,  and  if  it's 
anything  where  a  friend  can  help  with  an  easy  conscience,  I'll 
rush  into  the  speculation." 

Thus  urged,  the  Indian,  after  a  suflScient  time  had  elapsed  to 
satisfy  the  dignity  of  a  chief  proceeded  to  relate  one  of  those 
romances  of  the  forest,  which,  in  general  feature,  may  not  be 
very  dissimilar  to  those  of  civilized  life — the  only  difference  con- 
sisting in  the  darker  and  wilder  coloring  which  belongs  to  pic- 
tures of  savage  life.  We  will  not  attempt  to  give  it  in  the  pre- 
cise words  and  with  the  manner  of  the  Tuscarora,  although  we 
hope  to  exhibit  in  some  degree  the  energy  with  which  some 
portions  of  it  were  related. 

It  seemed  that  a  short  time  before,  a  band  of  Senecas,  for 
some  purpose,  had  been  hanging  about  the  villages  of  the  Onei- 
das  and  Tuscaroras,  situated  some  fifty  miles  north  of  that  por- 
tion of  the  valley  about  which  we  are  now  writing.  Their 
business  did  not  seem  to  be  of  a  warlike  nature,  and  frequent 
visits  of  ceremony  had  been  exchanged  between  the  chiefs  of 
the  once  hostile  tribes :  and  professions  were  made  by  the  Sene- 
cas of  a  desire  to  unite  once  more  the  severed  bond  of  union 
between  the  different  nations  of  the  confederacy.  This  condition 
of  things  existed  for  a  few  days,  when  it  was  announced  by  the 
Senecas  that  they  were  about  to  depart  towards  their  own  vil- 
lages. The  Tuscarora,  the  day  before  that  announced  for  the 
departure  of  theSenecas,  made  them  a  visit  of  ceremony,  accom- 
panied by  his  young  wife,  whose  Indian  name,  translated  into 
English,  was  Singing-Bird.  The  visitors  were  treated  with  the 
utmost  distinction,  although  Eagle's-Wing  fancied  that  on  one 
or  two  occasions  he  observed  symptoms  of  a  revival  of  the  old 
feeling  of  hostility  towards  him,  which  the  late  conflicts  had 
engendered.  The  band  of  Senecas  consisted  of  about  thirty- 
five  warriors,  under  the  command  of  Panther,  whose  treacheroui 
tnd  perfidious  nature  Eagle's-Wing  was  well  acquainted  witKr 


£6  fHI     FB0NTIJBB8MIH. 

But  the  Tuscarora  was  brave,  and  if  he  felt,  did  not  exhibit  ai 
Bymptoms  of  the  suspicions  which  occupied  his  mind.  At  lengt  , 
on  the  approach  of  evening,  the  Tuscarora  announced  his  dep»^ 
ture.  Panther  courteously  accompanied  him  a  short  distan*« 
from  the  lodge,  when  suddenly  a  number  of  Indians  who  hwi 
been  secreted  in  ambush,  sprang  upon  the  Tuscarora  and  tie 
young  squaw,  and  they  were  at  once  bound  and  brought  b><;k 
to  the  lodge.  The  Indians  made  immediate  preparations  for 
departure — as  would  be  necessary,  indeed,  after  such  an  act  of 
perfidy — for  the  Tuscaroras  and  Oneidas,  whose  villages  >rere 
situated  but  a  few  miles  distant,  would  shortly  suspect  the 
treachery,  and  come  in  search  of  the  prisoners.  Panther's 
motive  in  this  double  act  of  treachery  and  inhospitality,  was 
supposed  to  be  a  feeling  of  revenge  towards  the  Tuscarora — who 
had  signalized  himself  during  the  war,  by  his  friendship  for  the 
cause  of  the  Colonies — and  also  a  desire  to  obtain  the  beautiful 
Singing-Bird  for  his  own  wigwam. 

The  Senecas,  with  their  prisoners,  had  marched  all  that  night 
in  a  southerly  direction,  making  use  of  all  the  devices  of  which  an 
Indian  is  capable,  to  conceal  the  direction  of  their  march.  Neai 
morning,  the  Tuscarora,  although  closely  guarded,  had  found 
means  to  escape ;  but  instead  of  retracing  his  steps  to  get  assist- 
ance from  his  own  people  or  from  the  Oneidas.  he  followed  on  the 
trail  of  the  Senecas,  hoping  that  he  should  find  some  means  to 
release  Singing-Bird  from  her  captivity.  He  also  hoped  that  his 
brethren,  discovering,  as  they  certainly  would,  the  treachery  that 
had  been  used  towards  him,  would  send  out  a  party  of  warriors 
to  rescue  him. 

The  Senecas  had  passed  along  the  valley  on  the  day  when  we 
first  introduced  the  Tuscarora  to  the  reader.  They  had  encamped 
on  the  flats,  about  two  miles  below  the  shanty  we  have  mentioned, 
but  in  a  direction  much  nearer  the  river  than  that  taken  by  Ealph 
and  Miss  Barton,  in  their  journey  of  the  day  before. 

The  Tuscarora,  after  the  party,  on  the  night  before,  had  left 
the  shanty,  carefully  obliterated  all  traces  of  the  recent  occupancy 
of  the  hut,  and  proceeded  towards  the  encampment  of  the  Senecas. 
He  had  nearly  accomplished  his  purpose  of  delivering  Singing- 
Bird,  who  was  confined  in  a  temporary  wigwam  which  had  been 
erected  for  her,  when  he  was  discovered  by  a  young  warrior  of 
the  Senecas.  A  conflict,  brief  but  terrible,  had  ensued,  which 
resulted  in  the  death  of  the  Seneca ;  and  although  this  conflict 
had  prevented  the  execution  of  his  purpose,  he  succeeded  in  bear- 
ing away  the  usual  Indian  trophy  of  victory. 

A  sufficient  party  had  been  left  to  guard  the  wigwam  in  which 
Singing-Bird  was  confined,  and  the  remainder  of  the  Indians, 
almost  twenty-five  in  number,  had  set  ofi"  in  immediate  pursuit 
of  Eagle's-Wing.  The  latter  discovered,  in  his  flight,  which  was 
along  the  course  of  the  river,  a  light  bark  canoe,  which  had  been 


THX      FRONTIERSHEir.  5t 

constrncted  by  Guthrie  ;  and  at  once  entering  it,  rapidly  urged 
!t  up  the  stream.  By  so  doing,  although  the  Senecas  who  were 
pursuing  him  by  land,  might  pass  him,  yet  he  could  be  able  to 
secrete  himself  until  day-light,  certainly,  and  leave  no  trail  which 
could  be  followed.  On  the  day  before,  in  noting  the  course  of 
the  river,  and  the  means  of  shelter,  should  he  find  it  necessary 
to  take  to  a  hiding-place,  he  had  marked  the  clump  of  willows 
we  have  mentioned,  which  to  all  appearance  was  merely  a  thicker 
and  more  extensive  growth  than  was  elsewhere  observed.  But, 
as  he  now  showed  Ichabod,  in  the  centre  of  this  clump  was  a 
small  body  of  water  connected  with  the  river — a  sort  of  cove — 
the  mouth  of  which  was  completely  guarded  by  a  thick  under- 
growth of  willows.  To  a  person  in  a  canoe  on  the  river,  there 
was  nothing  to  indicate,  except  with  the  very  closest  attention, 
but  that  the  line  of  the  willows  was  the  shore  of  the  river.  Thus, 
by  separating  the  willows,  he  had  forced  the  canoe  into  this  small 
cove,  where  he  was  completely  hidden  from  all  observation,  as 
well  from  the  lard,  as  from  the  water. 

Ichabod,  who  was  much  excited  by  this  forest  romance,  at 
once  entered  into  the  feelings  of  the  Tuscarora. 

"  I  don't  blamo you  any,  Eagle's- Wing,"  said  he:  "I  don't  like 
this  scalping  business,  but  I  s'pose  you've  got  to  fight  according 
to  your  natur' ;  but  I'll  tell  you  this,  Eagle's-Wing, — here's  my 
hand  on  a  barga'n, — and  I'll  stick  to  it.  whether  the  speculation's 
good  or  bad — Tve'll  rescue  Singing-Bird,  any  way;  but  don't 
let  us  have  any  more  scalping,  just  now.  We  must  deceive  them 
rascals.  I  never  knew  a  scoundral  of  a  Seneca  yet,  but  could 
be  cheated  som')  way  or  other." 

Notwithstanding  the  interest  which  this  conversation  had 
excited,  the  Tiiscarora  and  Ichabod  had  both  been  intent  in 
watching  the  course  of  the  canoe.  It  had  now  advanced  some 
twenty-five  or  thirty  rods  up  the  river,  when  Panther,  evidently 
believing  he  h  id  passed  the  spot  where  the  Tuscarora  had  been 
observed,  now  headed  the  canoe  down  stream,  with  the  inten- 
tion of  making  a  more  diligent  search. 

Ichabod  was  about  to  propose  a  retreat  towards  the  forest, 
when  he  suddenly  beheld  in  that  direction  a  small  party  of 
Indians  advancing  towards  them.  The  intelligence  was  silently 
communicated  to  the  Tuscarora,  when  they  both  rapidly  entered 
the  clump  of  willows,  and  seated  themselves  in  the  canoe.  Their 
rifles  were  examined,  and  they  both  adjusted  their  knives  so  that 
they  would  be  in  readines,  if  it  should  be  necessary  to  use  them. 

The  Indians  who  were  approaching  from  the  forest  perceived 
Panther  and  his  companions  in  the  canoe,  and  signs  were  at  once 
made  to  attract  their  attention.  Panther  observed  them,  and 
the  canoe  was  immediately  brought  to  the  shore,  where  the  other 
Indiap-i  had  now  arrived.  The  Senecas  who  had  come  from  the 
woods,  occupied  the  precise  spot  where  Ichabod  had  first  observe 


58  THE      FRONTIERSMEN. 

thecanoi  of  Panther.  The  latter  had  brought  his  canoe  to  the 
edge  of  the  willows,  and  putting  them  aside,  sprung  lightly 
through  them  to  the  land. 

The  Senecas  were  now  not  more  than  ten  or  fifteen  feet  from 
the  hiding-place  of  the  Tuscarora,  so  that  their  conversation 
could  be  easily  overheard. 

Panther,  speaking  to  Deersfoot,  who  was  the  leader  of  the 
small  party  which  had  been  sent  to  scour  the  forest,  asked  if 
any  trace  had  been  found  of  the  fugitive.  Deersfoot  replied 
that  he  had  not  been  able  to  find  any  trail. 

Luckily  for  both  Eagle's- V:  ing  and  Ichabod,  the  Indians  who 
had  visited  the  shanty  since  ^he  latter  left  it  in  the  morning,  had 
not  taken  the  pains  to  discover  the  trail  of  the  Tuscorora  which 
Ichabod  had  done ;  and  they  had  also  followed  the  same  direction 
in  approaching  the  river,  but  without  examining  the  ground  with 
sufficient  care,  to  discover  the  footmarks  of  either  Eagle's- Wing 
or  Ichabod.  The  consequence  was,  that  now,  so  far  as  any  clue 
could  be  obtained  to  their  position  from  that  source,  they  were 
perfectly  safe,  a.",  the  Senecas,  in  traveling  in  the  same  direction, 
had  completely  obscured  the  signs  which,  with  a  little  more  care, 
they  might  have  discovered. 

Panther  and  Deersfoot  now  held  a  whispered  consultation, 
which  Ichabod,  although  he  reached  forward  as  far  as  his  safety 
would  permit,  could  not  distinctly  overhear.  But  he  was  quit« 
sure  that  he  heard  something  said  about  the  pale-faces  at  the 
cottage.  He  was  certain  from  this  that  the  Indians  would  visit 
the  house  of  Barton  ;  and  he  was  extremely  anxious  to  return 
there,  so  that  he  might  communicate  the  intelligence  as  soon  as 
possible. 

If  such  was  the  intention  of  the  Senecas,  it  appeared  that  they 
did  not  intend  to  put  it  in  execution  immediately ;  for  after  this 
consultation  was  finished,  Panther  directed  the  Indians  to  follow 
along  down  the  shore,  while  he  examined  it  from  the  canoe. 

Panther  returned  to  his  canoe  ;  while  Deersfoot  with  his  party, 
passing  around  the  cove,  proceeded  diligently  to  search  for  the 
enemy  whom  they  were  leaving  in  security,  at  least  for  the  pres- 
ent, behind  them. 

As  soon  as  they  had  passed  out  of  sight,  Ichabod  insisted  that 
Eagle's- Wing  should  accompany  him  to  the  cottage.  The  Indian 
at  first  refused,  fjom  the  idea  that  his  presence  there  would  bring 
danger  upon  the  family  of  Barton ;  but  as  Ichabod  assured  him 
of  the  certainty  of  holding  out  the  cottage  against  any  attack 
which  the  Senecas  might  make  upon  it,  and  also  of  the  joy  with 
which  Barton  and  his  daughter  would  welcome  him,  he  finally 
yielded ;  and  leaving  the  canoe  in  its  shelter,  they  rapidly  pro- 
ceeded tliitherward  through  the  forest. 


fHI      FSONTIXKSMIV.  H 


CHAPTER    VIII 

*'  Bat  Trh&t  talk  we  of  these  traitorly  raaoala,  whose  muenes  are  to  be 
emiled  at,  their  offences  being  so  capital  V* 

Wintm'b  Talb. 

When  Ichabod  and  the  Tuscarora  reached  the  cottage,  they 
found  the  inmates  much  alarmed,  owing  to  the  long  absence  of 
the  former ;  and  Ralph  was  just  about  setting  out  in  pursuit  of 
him.  Ichabod  had  perfectly  succeeded,  without  any  effort  on 
his  part,  in  ingratiating  himself  into  the  favor  of  all.  There 
was  something  in  his  frank,  hearty  manner,  that  at  once  gave 
him  a  place  in  the  affections  of  those  who  were  capable  of  being 
moved  by  such  qualities.  The  simplicity  and  earnestness  with 
which  he  pursued  his  schemes  of  pecuniary  speculation,  if  they 
excited  the  smiles  or  ridicule  of  those  who  saw  their  groundless- 
ness, did  not  detract  from  his  reputation  as  a  man  of  excellent 
judgment,  on  all  matters  out  of  the  range  of  that  one  idea. 

In  a  life  such  as  we  are  now  depicting,  which  was  essentially 
new — where  men  were  not  living  on  the  labors  of  others,  or 
eating  up  the  substance  which  others  had  gained,  but  where 
each  relied  upon  his  own  effort  t©  procure  the  necessaries  of 
life — there  was  a  general  simplicity  of  manners,  which  is  seldom 
to  be  found  in  these  latter  days.  Although,  as  in  comparison 
with  the  history  of  population  in  Europe,  we  are  immediately 
connected  in  point  of  age,  with  the  times  of  which  we  are 
writing,  yet  in  the  rapidity  of  our  own  history,  the  seventy 
years  which  have  intervened  have  a  much  greater  signification, 
and  seem  to  extend  over  a  length  of  time  sufficient  to  give  the 
broadest  play  to  the  imagination.  We,  who  are  now  in  the 
prime  of  life,  and  witness  a  broad,  fine  country,  thoroughly  sub- 
dued to  the  uses  of  the  farmer — cities  and  villages  connected  by 
the  ties  of  commerce — splendid  mansions,  which  already  begin 
to  wear  the  venerable  appearance  of  age,  can  scarcely  realize 
that  our  fathers  and  grandfathers  were  the  pioneers  before 
whose  vigorous  efforts  the  forests  disappeared,  and  the  wilder- 
ness gave  place  to  spacious  fields,  teeming  with  harvests,  and 
homes  where  happiness  asked  no  aid  from  wealth,  and  virtuous 
simplicity  paid  no  tribute  to  overreaching  avarice. 

Ichabod,  there,  was  welcomed  with  a  degree  of  warmth  which 
he  had  no  reason  to  expect ;  but  the  excited  state  of  mind  whica 
had  been  produced  by  the  events  of  the  day  before,  and  the  pro- 
bability of  future  troubles,  served  to  magnify  the  dangers  which 
it  was  supposed  he  was  likely  to  encounter  in  his  morning  advex> 
tore. 


60  THB      FBONTIEBSMIV. 

The  Tuscarora,  too,  was  heartily  welcomed  ;  and  the  morning 
meal,  which  had  been  left  waiting  for  Ichabod,  was  at  once 
served.  The  Tuscarora  ate  but  little  ;  for,  however  so  much  dis- 
posed an  Indian  may  be  to  give  way  to  a  gluttonous  disposition 
in  "  piping  times  of  peace,"  when  on  the  war-path,  he  is  always 
abstemious  to  a  degree ;  and  he  holds  in  great  contempt  the  man 
who  suffers  his  appetite  to  overcome  his  necessary  care  and 
watchfulness.  Ichabod.  however,  had  no  such  scruples  ;  and  he 
did  as  ample  justice  to  the  '•'  good  things"  which  were  set  before 
him,  as  if  such  an  animal  as  a  Seneca  had  never  existed. 

Having  finished  their  breakfast,  Ichabod  proceeded  to  com- 
municate to  Ralph  and  Barton  what  he  had  witnessed,  together 
with  a  brief  account  of  the  treachery  of  Panther  towards  Eagle's- 
Wing.  It  was  at  once  resolved  that  the  Tuscarora  should  be 
protected. 

"  For,"  said  Barton,  "  if  the  Senecas  should  dare  to  attack  the  ^ 
cottage,  they  will  find  that  we  have  ample  mean  of  defence.   But 
I  do  not  think  they  will  do  so ;  they  will  not  dare  so  openly  to 
violate  the  neutrality  which  now  exists." 

"  That  tribe  is  proverbially  treacherous,"  said  Ralph, "  and  from 
Eagle's- Wing's  story,  the  chief  of  this  party  is  especially  so.  I 
think  they  will  attack  us,  if  they  learn  that  the  Tuscarora  is 
sheltered  here .  but  I  agree  with  you  that  we  are  bound  to  pro- 
tect him.  The  cottage  is  in  a  good  state  of  defence,  and  we  can 
defend  it  against  twice  the  number  of  this  party. 

'•  Yes,  and  were  they  ten  times  as  strong,"  answered  Barton, 
•'  the  Tuscarora  should  not  be  surrendered.  His  services  in  our 
behalf  are  too  recent  to  be  so  soon  forgotten  ;  and  besides,  I 
would  protect  any  individual  of  the  Oneida  or  Tuscarora  nation, 
against  those  perfidious  rascals." 

The  old  man  said  this  with  an  animation  and  energy  that  set- 
tled the  question. 

The  Tuscarora,  however,  did  not  seeem  to  assent,  willingly,  to 
the  arrangement.  "With  a  sensitiveness  and  courtesy  which 
are  almost  peculiar  to  the  Indian  warrior,  he  endeavored  to 
decline  a  shelter  which  would  be  likely  to  bring  Barton  and  his 
family  into  some  peril  on  his  behalf. 

"  No,"  he  said,  •'  let  Canendesha  go.  He  knows  the  woods, 
and  the  warrior  likes  the  woods.  There  is  plenty  chance  to 
fight — plenty  good  place  to  hide.  Warrior  can't  fight  here— 
can't  take  any  scalp  here." 

Sambo  put  his  hand  to  his  head,  with  a  vivid  remembrance  of 
the  joke  of  the  night  before  ;  and  even  Barton  and  Ralph  were 
a  good  deal  shocked  at  the  cool-blooded  way  in  which  the  Tusca- 
rora spoke  of  this  peculiar  mode  of  Indian  warfare.  Barton  felt 
called  to  enter  his  protest,  at  once. 

"  Tuscarora,"  he  said, "  it  isn't  Christian  to  scalp.  I  supposed 
that  theTuscaroras  and  Oneidas  had  better  notions  than  to  do  80.'' 


THE      rSONTIEBSMIN.  61 

**  What  Christian  do,  eh  ?"  asked  Eagle's-Wing,  quietly. 

"  A  Christian  never  mutilates  his  enemy,  after  he  has  con- 
quered him."  replied  Barton. 

"  What  that  ?"  inquired  the  Tuscarora,  with  a  look  of  incom- 
prehension. 

'•  A  Christian  warrior,"  said  Barton,  who  found  himself  some- 
what puzzled  to  explain  clearly,  to  the  comprehension  of  th* 
Indian,  the  idea  he  had  in  his  mind ;  "  A  Christian  warrior  killB 
his  enemy  ;  he  don't " 

'"Christian  kill  enemy,  eh?"  said  Eaglc's-TVing,  quickly 
*•'  What  scalp  good  for  to  enemy,  after  he  killed  ?  Good  to  war- 
rior to  show  squaw  —  good  to  show  chiefs — good  many  scalps 
niake  great  chief." 

'•  Yes,  but  why  not  bear  off  some  other  trophy  ?  why  not  take 
a  portion  of  the  enemy's  dress,  or  something  of  that  sort  ?" 

*'  Warrior  can't  carry  away  all: — some  other  Injin  get  some, 
— make  him  great  warrior  too.  No-— no — Injin  got  but  one 
scalp  :  he  'spect  to  have  it  taken  ;  and  if  he  killed,  must  lose  it'* 

Eagle's-Wing  evidently  thought  he  had  exhausted  the  argu- 
ment ;  and,  in  truth,  he  had.  It  would  have  been  utterly  impos- 
sible to  have  held  any  such  controversy  with  him,  with  any 
prospect  of  success,  and  have  admitted  the  right  to  slay  an  ene- 
my at  all. 

Ichabod  chuckled  over  the  victory  which  had  been  gained  by 
his  friend  ;  not  that  he  justified  the  practice,  but  that  he  thought 
it  would  be  utterly  useless  to  endeavor  to  improve  an  Indian,  in 
that  respect.  It  was  a  practice  which  had  been  taught  in  infancy, 
and  become  an  instinct ;  for  the  warrior  having  slaia  the  enemy, 
secures  the  scalp,  or  his  victory  is  but  half  won. 

Just  at  this  point  in  the  conversation,  Sambo,  who  had  left  the 
house  a  few  moments  before,  came  running  in.  saying  that  Guth» 
rie  had  just  come  in  sight,  and  was  approaching  the  cottage. 
By  a  sort  of  instinctive  feeling,  the  whole  party,  except  the  Tus- 
carora, who  did  not  seem  to  be  familiar  with  the  name,  looked 
as  if  they  expected  some  new  scene  in  this  forest  drama  was 
aoout  to  be  enacted.  But  with  an  appearance  of  unconcern,  they 
prepared  to  receive  him ;  and  in  a  moment  more,  the  door 
opened,  and  the  heavy,  coarse  figure  of  Guthrie  was  in  the  room. 

As  he  opened  the  door,  the  Tuscarora  made  a  sudden  more- 
ment  of  surprise,  which  Ichabod  saw.  although  it  was  unnoticed 
by  either  Ralph  or  Barton.  The  Indian  immediately  resumed 
his  appeararce  of  composure,  and  looked  at  the  visitor  with  an 
air  of  iuditference ;  but  Ithabod  saw  that  Eagle's-Wing  had 
made  some  discovery  which  might  be  of  extreme  importance  in 
the  events  which  were  likely  to  occur.  As  has  been  before  re- 
marked, Ichabod ,  had  a  distinct  impression  that  he  had  before 
3een  Guthrie's  face — but  where,  he  could  not  recollect.  With  ft 
feeling  of  distrust,  which  the  sudden  gesture  of  the  Tusctfon  ha 


62  THE      FRONTIERSMEN. 

gerved  to  enliven,  he  now  waited  to  .earn  the  object  of  the  yitSL 

"  Good  day,  Guthrie,"  said  Barton,  "  what  news  do  you  bring 
from  below." 

"  O  nothing  in  particular.  Squire  ;  but  I  thought  I'd  come  up 
«nd  tell  you  that  there's  a  large  lot  of  Injins  round." 

"I  suppose  thsre  is  nothing  very  singular  in  that,"  answered 
Barton,  '•  so  long  as  this  may  be  considered  Indian  territory,  as 
yet." 

Now,  Barton  had  always  looked  upon  Guthrie  with  a  feeling 
of  distrust ;  and  for  this  reason  he  thought  it  best  to  appear 
ignorant  of  facts  he  well  knew,  as  by  so  doing,  he  might  better 
ascertain  the  true  object  of  his  visit. 

He  therefore  continued :  "  I  am  a  kind  of  tenant  at  sufierance 
of  the  Oneidas  here,  myself;  and  I  certainly  cannot  object  to 
their  visiting  their  own  territory." 

"  But  these  Injins  arn't  Oneidas,  Squire.  If  I  know  one  Maqua 
from  another,  they're  Senecas,"  said  Guthrie. 

"  Senecas !"  exclaimed  Barton,  with  the  appearance  of  surprise. 
**  what  business  have  the  Senecas  here,  I  should  like  to  know  ?'* 

"  I  ra'ally  can't  tell.  Squire,  what  kind  of  business  they  did 
come  on  out  here ;  but  they've  got  into  a  raging  passion  since 
they've  been  here,  and  I  am  ra'ally  afeard  of  trouble." 

"  They  have  had  no  occasion,  certainly,  for  anger  with  me  or 
mine,  and  I  cannot  suppose  that  they  intend  me  any  injury." 

"Well,  the  truth  is.  Squire,  they  say  that  this  Inj  in  you've  got 
here,"  pointing  to  the  Tuscarora,  "  has  got  the  scalp  of  one  of 
their  young  men  ;  and  they  declare  they'll  take  him,  any  way  j 
if  they  can't  by  fair  means,  they  will  by  foul." 

"  You  do  not  think  they  would  dare  to  attack  the  cottage  for 
the  purpose  of  capturing  him?"  said  Barton. 

"  There's  no  telling  what  them  Senecas  wonH  do,  Squire,  when 
ttey're  angry  ;  but  I  rather  reckon  they  will,  if  they  know  you've 
gtit  him  here." 

"  What  would  you  advise  me  to  do,  Guthrie  ?  you  understand 
the  ways  of  this  nation  pretty  well." 

"  As  for  understanding  the  ways  of  the  Senecas,  in  particular 
Squire,"  answered  Guthrie  somewhat  hastily,  "  I  can't  say  that 
I  do ;  but  a  man  can't  live  in  the  woods  as  long  as  I  have,  with- 
out knowing  something  about  the  Injins  in  general :  but  as  for 
what  you'd  better  do,  I  ra'ally  can't  say.  But  the  way  it  looks 
to  me  is,  that  if  you  want  your  buildings  burnt  down,  and  may 
he  yourself  and  family  taken  prisoners,  you'll  keep  him ;  but  if 
you  don't,  you'll  send  him  away.     But  it  arn't  for  me  to  say." 

"  Now,  Guthrie,"  said  Barton,  with  the  appearance  of  doubt. 
'''  I'll  put  it  to  you  as  a  question  of  honor,  under  all  the  diflScul- 
ties  you  mention :  this  Tuscarora  saved  my  daughter's  life,  yea- 
it«rday ;  now,  can  I,  as  an  honorable  man,  surrender  him  to  hii 
eaemiesi" 


%i. 


THE       FBO.NTIESSMEN.  63 

'  Well  Squire,  that  is  a  pretty  tight  spot,  that's  sartin,"  said 
Gnthrie.  "  But  you  see.  if  he  did  save  Miss  Barton's  life  yester- 
day, it  is  no  reason  why  he  should  put  it  in  danger  to-day ;  and 
your's  and  your  guests  besides." 

"  Why,  Guthrie,  you  talk  as  if  I  couldn't  defend  myself  here, 
if  I  really  tried.  You  seem  to  take  it  for  granted,  that  if  we 
are  attacked,  they  must  conquer,     I  am  not  so  certain  of  that." 

"  I  know,"  said  Guthrie,  "  you've  got  a  pretty  tolerably  strong 
fix  of  a  place  here ;  but  I  do  reckon  you  couldn't  hold  out  mucb 
of  a  siege.  I've  seen  stronger  places  taken  by  fewer  Indians,  ii> 
my  day." 

"Why,  how  many  Senecas  do  you  think  there  are,  Guthrie?* 
asked  Barton. 

"Well,  I  ra'ally  don't  know;  but  I  should  think  I'd  see* 
pretty  nigh  a  hundred  on  'em." 

Barton  smiled.  The  object  of  Guthrie  was  now  perfectly 
evident.  For  some  reason,  he  had  endeavored  to  induce  Barton 
to  surrender  the  Tuscarora,  and  had  thus  magnified  the  force  of 
the  enemy,  and  cast  doubt  upon  the  ability  of  Barton  to  main- 
tain the  defence  of  his  dwelling. 

Ralph,  although  very  indignant  at  this  dishonest  intention  of 
Guthrie,  maintained  the  appearance  of  composure.  The  Tusca- 
rora one  would  have  judged  to  have  been  totally  devoid  of  the 
sense  of  hearing ;  for  no  motion  or  gesture  betrayed  that  h© 
supposed  himself  the  subject  of  this  back- woods  diplomacy.  As 
for  Ichabod,  he  had  with  diflBculty  restrained  himself,  so  far,  from 
breaking  into  the  conversation.  Now,  however,  he  suddenly 
broke  in  by  advancing  towards  Guthrie,  and  exclaiming — 

*'  I  say,  stranger,  you  can't  be  very  good  at  reckoning,  for  a 
man  who  has  lived  all  his  life  in  the  woods,  and  ought  to  know 
the  number  of  his  enemies  at  first  sight.  Only  thirty-five,  count- 
ing that  red  reptile  that  lost  his  scalp.  And  as  for  them  thirty- 
five,  if  they  want  Eagle's- Wing,  all  they've  got  to  do,  you  see,  is 
to  come  and  take  him." 

Guthrie,  who  saw  at  once  that  his  plan  had  failed,  and  that 
Barton  knew  accurately  the  number  of  the  Senecas  with  whom, 
at  the  worst,  he  would  have  to  contend,  now  changed  his  tactics. 

"  Well,  friend,"  said  he  to  Ichabod,  "  you  might  have  been  a 
little  more  civil,  even  if  you  are  right,  and  I'm  wrong.  I  didn't 
count  'em — I  only  saw  'em  a  long  ways  off,  through  the  woods, 
and  might  be  mistaken,  you  know.  But."  said  he.  with  a  man- 
ner of  perfect  frankness,  turning  to  Barton,  "  whether  there's 
thirty-five  or  a  hundred,  I  don't  know  nor  don't  care,  so  far  as 
I'm  concerned  ;  if  you  say  fight,  here  I  am.  Squire,  and  I'll  help 
you  out  with  it,  any  way." 

Barton  sufiered  his  feelings  of  distrust  to  be  overcome  at  once 
Grasping  Guthrie's  hand,  he  exclaimed — "  That's  right,  friend. 
You  and  I  are  neighbors  here,  and  there's  no  reason  whj  wt 


64  THE      FRONTIEBSMKN. 

shouldn't  be  friends,  at  such  a  time  as  this.  The  Tuscarora  has 
been  deeply  wronged  by  these  Senecas,  and  if  he  has  revenged 
himself,  it's  Indian  law,  and  we  can't  blame  him  for  it.  No^I 
can't  surrender  him ;  and  if  they  want  to  fight  about  it,  why 
we'll  get  out  of  it  the  best  we  can," 

Barton,  who  was  extremely  gratified  at  this  addition  to  the 
force  of  the  cottage,  at  once  led  Guthrie  about  the  building  and 
grounds,  to  show  him  his  preparations  for  defence.  Kalph  was 
not  at  all  pleased  with  the  manner  of  Guthrie ;  but  as  he  knew 
that  Barton  was  much  better  acquainted  with  him  than  he  pre- 
tended to  be,  he  could  not  object  to  receiving  the  aid  which  was 
so  frankly  ofiered,  and  which  might  be  needed.  After  the 
departure  of  Barton  and  his  new  ally,  Ichabod  and  the  Tusca- 
rora fell  into  an  earnest  but  whispered  conversation,  and  Ralph 
left  the  apartment  in  search  of  Miss  Barton,  whom  he  had  not 
seen  since  the  events  of  the  day  before. 

"  I  say,  Eagle's-Wing,,"  said  Ichabod,  "  I  don't  half  like  this 
business.  That  stranger  seems  to  be  a  kind  of  white  Seneca. 
I  never  knew  an  honest  man  who  was  afraid  to  look  another 
honest  man  in  the  eye.     I  don't  like  him." 

"  You  guess  right :  I  know  him.  He  King  George's  man," 
said  the  Tuscarora,  quietly. 

"  What !  a  Tory !"  exclaimed  Ichabod.  "  How  do  you  know 
that,  Eagle's-Wing?" 

"  Know  ?  Know  it  sartin  Saw  him  down  here  on  war-path. 
He  fought  with  Senecas.     No  recollect  ?" 

"  That's  it.  Heavens  and  airth  !  why  didn't  I  think  of  that  ? 
Here  I've  been  trying  for  two  days  to  remember  where  I've  seen 
that  hang-dog  face.  He  was  one  of  the  leaders  of  them  venom- 
ous reptiles.  Nothing  can  beat  an  Indian  for  recollecting  things." 
"Indian  got  long  memory  Know  enemy  always.  Don't 
forget  him." 

"  I  say,  Eagle's-Wing,  do  you  think  the  sarpent  recollects  us  ?" 
"  Yes — sartin.     He  recollect  you — saw  that.     Recollect  me, 
too.     Most  got  his  scalp  :  he  recollect  that,  well,  I  know." 
"  How's  that,  Eagle's-Wing  ?" 

"  When  Seneca  run,  he  run  too.  I  shoot,  and  he  felL  I  run 
to  get  scalp — but  Seneca  warriors  turn — too  many  of  'em— and 
they  take  him  ofi".     He  'members  that,  sartin." 

"  Now  Eagle's-Wing,  that  sarpent  has  come  here  to  practise 
some  deviltry  on  us.  He's  fairly  cheated  the  old  Squire,  and  I 
s'pose  he  thinks  he  has  cheated  us,  too.  What  shall  we  do  with 
him  ?" 

"  I  know  what  /do,"  and  he  significantly  pointed  to  his  knife. 

"  No — that  won't  do  at  all.     You  see,  if  he  is  in  league  with 

them  Senecas,  there's  only  one  way  that  he  can  help  them  and 

injure  us.    Being  inside  here,  he  reckons  he  can  open  the  doov 

to  'em  " 


THE      rRONTIERSMEBT.  65 

**  Yes,  that's  the  way — no  other  way." 

"  Well,  you  see,  Eagle's-Wing,  we'll  let  him  play  his  game  oat, 
but  we'll  try  and  be  there  to  see  it  done.  Now,  mind,  Eagle's- 
Wing,  until  that  does  happen,  \  a  mustn't  seem  to  know  him  at 
all." 

"  Yes,  yes  ;  make  b'lieve  friend — that  the  way." 

"  I  reckon  we'll  hear  from  them  reptiles  to-night ;  and  if  we 
do,  Eagle's-Winq;.  we'll  thin  out  their  numbers  a  little,  and  then 
to-morrow  for  the  Singing-Bird.  You'll  see  her  again  to-morrow, 
and  no  mistake." 

A  melancholy  smile  passed  over  the  countenance  of  the  Tus- 
carora.  It  was  immediately  followed  by  such  a  gleam  of  deadly 
ferooity.  that  even  Ichabod  started. 

"  Panther  got  lying  tongue — I  tear  it  out.  Panther  got  bad 
heart — I  tear  it  out.  He  take  my  squaw — he  never  see  his  own 
squaw  again." 

"  I  don't  blame  you,  Eagle's-Wing,  for  your  feelings  towards 
that  reptile ;  but  I  do  wish  you  Injins  could  learn  a  civilized 
mode  of  warfare.  I  shan't  argue  with  you :  I  know  better  than 
that;  but  I  ra'ally  don't  see  how  any  Injin  of  your  qualities  can 
have  such  a  strong  desire  for  tearing  scalps  off  from  all  his 
enemies.  But  it's  Injin  natur'  I  s'pose.  When  white  people 
offer  bounties  for  such  things,  I  don't  much  blame  Injins  for 
speculating  in  that  kind  of  article :  but  to  do  it  when  nothing's 
to  be  made  out  of  it,  beats  my  comprehension." 

But  we  must  leave  Ichabod  and  the  Tuscarora  to  their  con- 
versation, while  we  follow  Ptalph  to  the  interview  which  he 
sought  with  Miss  Barton. 

Proceeding  directh'  towards  the  front  portion  of  the  house, 
and  entering  a  room  which  was  fitted  up  tastefully,  and  adapted 
to  '•  state  occasions,"  if  we  may  be  permitted  to  apply  that  term 
to  an  apartment  designed  as  well  for  a  family  room  as  a  parlor, 
he  found  Ruth,  who  seemed  to  be  yet  suffering  from  the  agita- 
tion and  excitement  of  the  day  before. 

*'  I  am  happy  to  see  you,  Miss  Barton,"  said  Ralph.  "  suffer- 
ing no  more  from  your  perilous  night-ride.  That  was  an  adven- 
ture which,  I  think,  we  shall  remember.'' 

"  1  shall  not  forget  it  very  soon,  at  least,"  she  replied.  "  I 
think  you  must  confess  that  I  showed  you  more  of  the  peculiari- 
ties of  forest  life,  than  \\  -s  arranged  beforehand." 

''  Had  you  advertised  me  of  precisely  what  we  saw,  we  might 
have  been  a  little  better  prepared,"  said  Ralph:  "but  that 
adventure  ^ould  make  an  excellent  theme  for  a  ballad,  in  the 
German  style.  It  possessed  sufficient  of  the  mysterious  and 
terrible  for  that  purpose,  certainly." 

"  You  have  visited  us,  Captain  Weston,"  said  Ruth,  with  seri- 
Dusness,  "  in  an  unfortunate  time  for  yourself.  I  hear  that  w» 
ire  threatened  with  aa  attack  ^om  Ii^diaiis." 


^6  THE      FRONTIERSMEN. 

"Do  not  say  unfortunate,  Miss  Barton:  rather,  I  deem  mjgftlf 
most  fortunate,  in  happening  to  be  here  at  this  time,  shoulvl  th* 
attack  which  is  threatened  be  made." 

•'  I  hope  it  may  not  be.  0 !  it  is  horrible  to  think  that  this 
home  I  love  so  much  should  be  the  scene  of  such  a  conflict." 

''  T  think  that  in  no  event  can  our  safely  be  endangered," 
replied  Ralph;  "and  that  we  have  nothing  to  fear  from  the 
attack,  should  it  be  made.  We.  have  abundant  means  of  defence, 
and  the  enemy  is  not  strong  enough,  with  the  stout  hearts  we 
shall  have  within  these  walls,  to  force  the  cottage.  But  I  can 
sympathize  with  your  sorrow,  Miss  Barton.  God  has  made  this 
country  too  beautiful  to  be  marred  by  the  strife  of  men." 

"It  is  a  terrible  blot  on  human  nature,"  said  Ruth,  "that 
men  dwelling  so  far  from  society,  in  the  midst  of  the  forest, 
where  every  object  should  excite  sacred  emotions,  can  engage  in 
these  unholy  conflicts  with  each  other.  It  is  a  proof— a  strong 
proof,  of  the  wretched  condition  of  poor  human  nature,  unassist- 
ed by  the  light  that  shines  from  above." 

'•  Such  is  the  nature  of  men,"  replied  Ralph,  "  and  surely  per- 
haps, it  will  always  be.  The  first  men  were  warriors,  and  if 
ignorance  and  brutality  always  exist,  the  last  men  will  be  war- 
riors, also.  The  whole  history  of  the  world  has  been  written 
with  the  sword — places  most  sacred  have  been  profaned  by  the 
bloody  stains  of  human  passion,  and  themes  the  most  holy  have 
given  rise  to  the  deadliest  hatred  and  contention.  We  cannot 
expect  that  men  educated  in  the  ways  of  the  forest,  shall  be  wiser 
than  those  who  boast  of  their  civilization." 

"  But  is  there  no  way,"  asked  Ruth,  "  in  which  this  conflict 
-can  be  avoided  ?" 

*'  None,  perhaps,  that  would  be  honorable."  Ralph  then  gave 
an  account  of  the  wrongs  which  the  Tuscarora  had  received  from 
the  Senecas,  together  with  the  capture  of  his  squaw.  Ruth  ac- 
knowledged the  impossibility  of  complying  with  the  demands  of 
the  Senecas.  Her  heart  at  once  sympathised  with  the  wrongs  of 
the  Tuscarora ;  and  the  picture  which  her  imagination  drew  of 
Singing-Bird  in  captivity  in  the  hands  of  those  unrelenting  and 
unmerciful  enemies,  brought  tears  to  her  eyes. 

"  No,  no,"  said  she ;  "  the  Tuscarora  has  been  our  friend,  and 
we  cannot  deliver  him  to  his  enemies.  In  such  a  cause,  I  could 
•be  a  soldier  myself" 

Although  Rutff  had  been  educated  to  a  far  different  manner  of 
life,  and  in  former  times  had  enjoyed  many  of  the  luxeries  which 
<50uld  then  be  afibrded  by  persons  in  "  comfortable"  circumstan- 
ces, yet  she  possessed  sufiicient  of  that  heroism  of  character 
which  the  times  had  engendered,  to  enable  her  to  throw  ofi"  the 
habits  of  early  education,  and  adopt  the  character  of  fortitude 
and  patience  in  the  midst  of  suSering,  peculiar  to  the  class  of 
women  in  the  station  in  which  she  then  moved.    Thus,  although 


THE      FRONTIEPSMEN.  67 

eh©  viewed  with  dread  the  prospect  of  a  strife  with  the  savage 
and  unmerciful  enemies  by  whom  they  were  then  about  to  be 
attacked,  she  did  not  suffer  herself  to  yield  to  the  terrors  which 
such  an  idea  would  be  likely  to  inspire.  The  women  of  the  times 
of  the  Revolution  lost  none  of  their  feminine  graces,  by  bearing 
with  fortitude  the  perils  and  dangers  by  which  they  were  encom- 
passed. 

Ralph  gazed  with  admiration  on  that  beautiful  countenance, 
thas  excited  by  a  tender  sympathy  for  the  sufferings  which  sha 
felt  must  be  endured  by  the  Tuscarora  and  Singing-Bird. 

"  With  such  soldiers,"  said  he,  "  we  could  not  but  sncceed ; 
but  we  shall  scarcely  call  upon  Miss  Barton  to  fall  into  the  ranks, 
At  present.     We  shall  only  do  that  as  a  last  resort. 

At  this  moment,  their  conversation  was  interrupted  by  the 
appearance  of  Sambo,  who  informed  Ralph  that  Mr.  Barton 
desired  his  presence  immediately.  Ralph  at  once  obeyed  the 
lummons ;  but  its  object  we  shall  leave  to  the  next  chapter  to 
infold. 


68  THI      FBOMTIEBSMIV* 


CHAPTER    IX. 

**  Here,  Persian,  tell  thy  embassy !    Repeat 
That,  to  obtain  my  friendship,  Asia's  prince 
To  me  hath  proffered  sovereignty  of  Greece." 

Lbonidas. 

Ralph  found  Mr.  Barton  and  his  companions  in  consultation 
apon  some  subject  of  apparent  importance,  from  the  anxiety 
which  was  manifested  in  their  countenances.  Two  Indians  of 
the  Seneca  Nation  were  seen  approaching  the  cottage ;  and 
although  as  they  were  unarmed,  no  immediate  hostility  could  be 
expected,  yet  it  was  evident  they  were  coming  upon  some  errand 
relative  to  the  shelter  of  the  Tuscarora.  If  such  were  the  case, 
this  departure  from  the  ordinary  caution  of  the  Indian,  might  be 
evidence  either  of  the  desire  not  to  come  in  conflict  with  the 
whites,  or  of  a  confidence,  on  their  part,  in  their  ability  to 
succeed  in  any  attack  they  might  make  upon  the  dwelling. 

It  was  decided  that  Ralph,  the  Tuscarora  and  Gauthrie  should 
remain  in  the  cottage,  while  Barton  and  Ichabod  should  meet 
the  approaching  Indians,  and  ascertain  the  nature  of  their  errand. 
With  this  view  the  two  latter  proceeded  to  a  small  grove  which 
had  been  left  uncleared,  except  of  the  underbush,  a  short  distance 
south  of  the  dwelling. 

The  two  Indians  approached  with  an  apparent  feeling  of 
security.  They  were  to  all  appearance  unarmed  ;  and  they 
exhibited  a  manner  of  confidence  and  amity  intended  to  convince 
the  persons  with  whom  they  were  to  deal,  that  their  mission  was 
a  friendly  one.  One  of  these  Indians  was  Deersfoot,  whom  we 
have  already  mentioned ;  the  other  was  of  a  much  less  warlike 
appearance.  He  was  small  of  statute,  with  a  quick,  cunning 
glance,  and  was  celebrated  among  his  people  for  oratory.  His 
name  was  Snake-tongue, — given  to  him  evidently,  by  reason  of 
greater  powers  with  his  eloquence  than  with  his  rifle. 

When  they  had  approached  within  fifteen  or  twenty  feet  of  the 
position  occupied  hy  Barton  and  Ichabod,  the  former  advanced 
towards  them  with  a  smile,  and  welcomed  them  to  his  cottage. 

"  It  is  not  often,"  said  he,  "  that  I  have  an  opportunity  to 
honor  the  young  warriors  of  the  Senecas.  It  is  seldom  that  they 
visit  the  country  of  the  Oneidas,  in  time  of  peace." 

"  The  Oneidas  and  Senecas  are  brothers."  said  Deersfoot.  "  A 
cloud  sometimes  has  passed  between  them  ;  but  there  is  n<*  cloud 
wow.  They  are  brothers  still.  The  young  men  of  the  {^ue^aa 
ouue  to  look  OQ  the  hunting-grounds  of  their  brothers." 


THK      rEONTIEBSMK V.  69 

"  The  country  of  the  Senecas  is  not  a  good  country,  then  T" 
ftsked  Barton.  "  I  had  heard  that  the  Senecas  dwelt  in  a  garden — 
that  they  owned  large  lakes  that  are  filled  with  fish,  and  foresti 
that  are  filled  with  deer." 

"My  father,"  said  Deersfoot,  in  deference  to  the  grey  hairs  of 
Barton,  '*  my  father  tells  the  truth ;  such  is  the  country  of  the 
Senecas.  The  Great  Spirit  has  given  us  a  good  land  to  dwell  in. 
He  has  given  us  lakes  that  are  full  of  fish,  and  forests  that  are 
full  of  deer  The  Senecas  and  Oneidas  belong  to  the  same 
nation ; — together  they  conquered  the  Sennape ;  and  the  Senecas 
are  proud  when  they  hear  of  the  fame  of  the  Oneidas.  Why 
should  we  not  love  to  look  upon  the  country  of  our  brothers  ?" 

'•  I  am  glad  that  you  like  to  look  upon  this  valley,  Deersfoot. 
I  am  glad  to  hear  that  there  is  no  cloud  between  the  Senecas 
and  the  Oneidas.     It  would  not  be  well  if  there  were." 

Barton  had  carefully  abstained  from  touching  the  point  which 
was  likely  to  be  that  of  controversy.  It  never  comports  with  the 
dignity  of  an  Indian  to  show  haste  or  curiosity  ;  and  he  knew 
that  he  could  maintain  a  better  position  on  the  question  which 
would  probably  arise,  if  he  sufiered  them,  without  any  manifesta- 
tion of  curiosity  on  his  part,  to  unfold  the  nature  of  their  errand 

"  The  Five  Nations  were  once  a  great  nation"  said  Deersfoot 
"  they  could  travel  a  great  many  day's  journey  and  not  leav 
their  country  :  the  wolf  that  howled  amidst  the  snows  north  oi 
the  great  lakes,  they  had  a  right  to  hunt ;  and  to  gather  fruiU 
from  under  the  warm  sun  of  the  south.  But  it  is  not  so  now.  We 
are  now  weak ;  and  the  pale-faces  are  strong.  The  Great  Spirit 
has  willed  it,  and  we  cannot  help  it :  we  wouid  help  it  if  we  could. 
But  it  does  no  good  to  talk.     We  grow  weaker  every  day." 

'•  The  Great  Spirit,"  said  Barton,  "  has  not  been  so  unkind  to 
the  Five  Nations.  The  warriors  of  the  Five  Nations  have  not 
always  been  wise.  If  they  had  listened  to  the  words  of  the 
Christian  teachers  who  have  talked  to  them,  they  would  have 
been  a  stronger  nation.  But  they  dug  up  the  hatchet  against  their 
brothers  of  the  Colonies,  and  they  lost  a  great  many  warriors." 

A  gleam  of  deadly  ferocity  passed  over  the  face  of  Deersfoot 
for  a  moment,  and  his  wild,  dark  eyes  shot  forth  glances  of  hatred 
— but  in  an  instant  he  recovered  his  composure. 

"  It  may  be  that  my  father  speaks  wise.  The  Indians  know 
but  a  little,  and  may  be  they  were  wrong.  They  lost  a  great 
many  warriors,  it  is  true.  But  they  pleased  the  eyes  of  their 
old  men  and  squaws  with  many  scalps  of  their  enemies.  A  white 
man  followed  every  warrior  of  the  Senecas,  in  the  path  that  leads 
to  the  happy  hunting-grounds  of  the  Great  Spirit." 

The  tone  in  which  this  reply  of  the  Seneca  was  uttered  was 
sufficiently  startling.  Ichabod  stretched  his  tall  form  as  if  he  was 
about  to  intrude  upon  the  conversation,  but  at  a  gesture  from 
BartoDj  he  remained  silent 


.•^^  B0HTISR8MIN. 

Deersfoot,.  after  a  moment's  silence,  continued :  *'  We  have 
»me  to  have  a  talk  with  the  pale-faces  of  the  cottage.  The 
Senecas  have  not  got  forked  tongues.  They  have  buried  the 
natched  with  the  Yengeese.  and  with  the  Colony  pale-faces.  They 
would  not  dig  it  up  again.  Let  my  brothers  hear  and  be  wise. 
Snake-tongue  will  speak." 

With  these  words,  he  stepped  back,  with  dignity,  while  Snake- 
tongue,  after  a  few  moment's  hesitation,  advanced  towards  Bar- 
ton.    In  a  low  but  musical  voice,  he  commenced  his  harangue : 

"  My  name  is  Snake-tongue.  It  is  a  good  name  for  friends  to 
bear — it  is  a  bad  name  for  enemies.  The  warrior  is  known  by 
his  name. 

Deersfoot  has  said  that  the  Five  Nations  are  weak,  and  that 
the  pale-faces  are  strong.  It  may  be  so ;  I  cannot  dispute  it.  I 
have  seen  the  Yankee  pale-faces  fight  the  Great  King  over  the 
water  for  seven  winters  and  summers — they  must  be  strong. 
Deersfoot  has  spoken  the  truth. 

Deersfoot  has  said  that  the  Five  Nations  grow  weaker  every 
day.  We  are  now  Six  Nations,  and  we  are  weaker  than  when 
we  were  Five  Nations.  Why  is  it  so?  The  pale-faces  have 
slain  a  great  many  of  our  warriors ;  but  that  has  not  made  us 
weak.  It  is  because  the  Great  Spirit  has  turned  the  hearts  of 
his  red  children  against  each  other.  If  a  pale-face  slays  an  Indian, 
it  is  wrong ;  but  it  is  not  so  wrong  as  it  is  for  one  Indian  to  slay 
another.  The  sad  spirit  of  the  dead  warrior  goes  on  its  path,  and 
complains  to  the  Great  Spirit,  that  its  enemy  does  not  follow  him, 
and  the  Great  Spirit  is  angry.  We  must  shed  the  blood  of  the 
murderer.    It  is  the  law  of  the  Great  Spirit,  and  it  is  a  good  law. 

•'  The  Yankee  pale-faces  are  strong,  when  they  come  together 
in  armies  ;  but  are  they  strong  here  ?  My  father  is  away  from 
his  friends  in  the  settlements ;  he  has  but  two  or  three  pale-paces 
with  him.  Are  two  or  three  pale-faces  a  match  for  the  young 
warriors  of  the  Senecas  ?    Let  my  father  pause  and  think." 

"  There  are  five  of  us.  Snake-tongue,  with  plenty  of  rifles  and 
powder ;  and  good  walls  behind  which  we  can  stand  and  pick 
out  our  enemies,"  said  Barton,  who  saw  the  tendency  of  this 
harangue,  and  who  was  disposed  to  meet  the  issue  half  way. 

Snake-tongue  continued,  cold  and  impassive.  "  My  father 
speaks  the  truth.  There  are  Jive  warriors  to  defend  the  cottage 
of  the  pale- faces,  r^  There  are  four  pale-faces,  and  a  red  man. 
But  we  have  buried  the  hatchet  with  the  pale-faces : — we  are  no 
longer  enemies,  but  friends.  We  do  not  care  whether  there  are 
five  warriors  or  twenty  in  the  cottage.  We  are  at  peace  with 
the  pale-faces.     It  makes  no  difierence  to  us.     We  are  friends. 

"  Why  then,  does  Snake-tongue  make  us  this  long  war-speech  ? 
It  is  true  that  we  are  friends ;  let  us  continue  so." 

"  My  father  speaks  wise.  Let  us  remain  friends.  There  is  no 
llgod  between  us  and  the  pale-  faces,  that  the  p&le-faces  cannol 


THB      FBOKTIESSMSS?.  tl 

pnt  away.  A  young  warrior  of  the  Senecas  has  been  kflltd, 
and  his  enemy  has  got  his.  SC'V  ^  Did  the  pale-faces  do  that  ? 
No, — the  pale-faces  do  not  t&&i  scalps ;  but  an  Indian  alwaya 
does  ;  a  scalp  looks  good  in  hl:i  eyoa.  "We  would  find  the  scalp 
of  our  young  warrior  !  where  is  it  V" 

"  I  am  sorry,"  answered  Barton,  "  if  any  of  your  young  meo 
have  been  killed ;  but  Snake-tongue  speaks  true ;  he  was  not 
killed  by  the  pale-faces.    I  do  not  know  where  his  scalp  is." 

"  But  we  know  where  it  is,"  continued  Snake-tongue.  "  It  ia 
hid  beneath  the  belt  of  Canendesha.  He  has  hid  it  from  his 
friends ;  but  he  cannot  hide  it  from  the  Sanecas.  Their  eyes 
are  sharp ;  they  can  see  an  enemy  a  great  way  off, — and  they 
can  find  his  trail  if  he  hides.  Canendesha  is  in  the  cottage  of 
the  pale-faces.  We  are  at  peace  with  the  pale-faces  ;  but  we 
want  the  Tuscarora.  He  has  killed  a  warrior  of  the  Senecas. 
The  Tuscarora  must  die.  It  is  Indian  law.  It  was  taught  us 
by  the  Great  Spirit  that  we  must  punish  our  enemies.  We  want 
the  Tuscarora.  ^^^ 

The  Indian  paused,  as  if  waiting  ibr  a  reply.  Barton  answered — - 

"  My  brother  has  a  bad  tradition  ;  it  is  not  true  ;  the  Great 
Spirit  does  not  teach  the  red  men  to  punish  their  enemies.  The; 
red  men  have  not  heard  right ;  their  ears  have  been  shut.  Th©^ 
Great  Spirit  has  said  that  the  red  men  must  love  their  enemies." 

'•  I  have  heard,"  answered  Snake-tongne,  "  of  such  a  tradition 
among  the  pale-faces.  It  must  be  a  false  tradition,  for  the  pale- 
faces do  not  believe  it ;  they  punish  their  enemies.  We  beliere 
m  our  tradition.     It  is  a  good  one." 

*'  I  do  not  deny,"  said  Barton,  who  saw  that  the  conversation 
must  be  terminated,  •'  but  that  the  Tuscarora  may  have  killed 
one  of  your  young  men;  but  did  not  the  young  Seneca  try 
to  prevent  him  from  getting  his  squaw?  We  have  heard  that 
Panther  has  stolen  the  squaw  of  the  Tuscarora.  and  will  not  give 
her  up.  Is  that  right?  Do  red  men  treat  their  brothers  so^ 
and  expect  that  their  hearts  will  be  filled  with  peace  ?" 

''  The  young  squaw,"  answered  Snake-tongue,  quietly,  "  is  ut 
the  wigwam  of  Panther ;  she  can  go  if  she  does  not  wish  to  stay 
there;  but  her  eyes  like  to  look  on  Panther.  He  is  a  great 
warrior." 

'•Ichabod  could  be  restrained  no  longer.  This  slander  or 
Singing-Bird  was  more  than  his  friendship  for  Eagle's- Wing, 
would  allow  him  to  bear. 

"  See  here.  Snake-tongue,'^  said  he,  "  you're  a  sort  of  amba»- 
bassador  here,  and  its  again  ali  law  to  make  war  on  that  sort  of 
people ;  but  I  don't  know  of  any  law  to  prevent  my  telling  yoa 
that  you  lie  like  S.  rascally  Seneca," 

Both  Deersfoot  and  Snake-tong-ie  started  at  this  defiant  speech 
of  Ichabod ;  and  at  the  first  impuise  put  their  hands  to  their 
belts  as  if  to  grasp  ihmr  knives ;  bmt  in  a  moment  they  resumed 


12  fHK      FBONTIERSMBir. 

their  composure,  and  seemed  to  await  the  reply  of  Barton,  wiio 
■aid,  at  length :  • 

"  We  have  heard  your  demar.a,  Snake-tongue.  The  Tuscaron 
is  our  friend.  He  has  been  wronged  by  the  Senecas.  We  do 
not  believe  that  Singing-Bird  wishes  to  remain  in  the  wigwam 
jof  Panther.  It  cannot  be  true,  although  Panther  is  a  great  war- 
rior.    We  cannot  give  up  the  Tuscarora.     He  is  our  friend." 

"  And  furthermore,"  said  Ichabod,  "  we  demand  that  you 
should  release  Singing-Bird  ;  and  tell  j'^our  lying  chief,  that  if  she 
isn't  sent  along  instanter,  we'll  come  after  her.  I've  fou't  Sene- 
cas before. 

"  My  brothers  have  spoken,"  said  Snake-tongue,  quietly  ;  "  1 
will  give  their  words  to  the  warriors  of  the  Senecas.  Perhaps 
they  have  spoken  wise.     It  is  not  for  me  to  say." 

Thus  saying,  the  two  Indians  withdrew  from  the  grove,  as 
quietly  as  they  had  entered  it. 

"  The  lying  reptile !"  exclaimed  Ichabod.  "  To  insinuate  that 
Singing-Bird  has  a  liking  for  that  rascally  red-skin.  If  he  hadn't 
been  an  ambassador,  I  would  have  made  him  swallow  his  words 
on  the  spot." 

"  The  Seneca  lied,  undoubtedly,"  said  Barton ;  "  but  we  have 
now  got  to  defend  ourselves.  The  language  and  tone  of  Snake- 
tongue  implied  nothing  less.  I  am  getting  very  much  interested 
in  the  history  of  Singing-Bird,  myself;  and  we  will  find  some 
means,  in  case  we  succeed  in  repelling  the  Senecas  from  the  cot- 
tage, to  aid  the  Tuscarora  in  rescuing  her. 

"  That's  right.  Squire,"  said  Ichabod.  Eagle's- Wing  and 
I  have  sworn  to  do  that ;  and  Providence  permitting,  I'll  have  a 
chance  at  that  foul-mouthed  rascal  yet." 

Barton  and  Ichabod  now  entered  the  house,  where  they  found 
Guthrie  and  the  Tuscarora  engaged,  apparently,  in  a  friendly 
conversation.  The  result  of  the  ''  talk"  was  communicated ;  and 
although  it  was  agreed  that  the  Senecas  would  make  an  attack 
upon  the  cottage,  yet  no  one  seemed  to  think  that  they  would 
immediately  do  so.  The  arrangements  for  defence  were  now, 
however,  all  made,  and  the  duty  of  each  individual  assigned,  so 
far  as  it  could  now  be  done.  When  this  was  accomplished,  the 
party  separated ;  each,  however,  taking  it  upon  himself  to  watch 
warDy  for  the  first  signs  of  the  attack. 

Ralph  walked  «ut  into  the  grove,  where  the  recent  conversa- 
tion with  the  Senecas  had  taken  place.  He  felt  much  anxiety 
for  the  result  of  the  coming  conflict ;  not  that  he  really  feared 
that  the  Indians  would  succeed  ;  but  he  well  knew  that  the  is- 
sues of  such  encounters  are  never  certain.  Perhaps  his  warm 
^attachment  towards  Ruth  had  much  to  do  with  this  feeling ;  for 
in  the  event  of  failure  in  defending  the  cottage,  were  the  Indiana 
disposed  to  reap  all  the  advantages  of  then*  success,  as  would 
^^bftbly  b«  the  case,  in  the  heat  oi  their  QXcitomeBt  and  passioOf 


TSE      FSONTIERSMStr  T3 

ihe  situation  of  Ruth  would  be  extremely  dangerous.  He  would 
have  been  much  better  satisfied  at  that  moment,  were  Ruth  at 
the  settlements,  or  in  some  place  of  safety,  where  she  would  not 
be  exposed  to  the  accidents  of  the  impending  encounter.  But  it 
was  now  too  late  to  allow  of  her  flight,  even  if  it  had  been  deem- 
ed advisable.  While  engaged  in  these  thoughts,  Ruth,  who  had 
observed  him  from  the  cottage,  approached  him,  and  laid  her 
light  hand  on  his  shoulder.  Ralph  started,  but  smiled  as  he 
recognized  Miss  Barton. 

"How  now,  Sir  Knight?"  said  Ruth,  "you  do  not  seem  to  be 
occupied  with  very  pleasant  thoughts." 

"  They  ought  to  be  of  a  pleasant  nature,  certainly,"  said  Ralph^ 
"  for  I  was  thinking  of  no  one  else  than  Miss  Barton. 

"  I  am  sorry,"  said  Ruth,  "  if  so  unworthy  a  person  as  I,  can 
give  Captain  Weston  such  a  serious  countenance." 

"  Miss  Barton,  T  do  not  wish  to  say  anything  to  alarm  you, 
but  all  our  exertions  will  be  required  to  defend  our  lives  to-night." 

"  Is  it  certain  we  are  to  be  attacked  so  soon  ?"  inquired  Ruth, 
with  a  slight  look  of  alarm. 

"  I  think  there  can  be  no  doubt  of  it ;  and  at  such  a  time,  with 
so  few  defenders,  and  so  unmerciful  and  vigilant  an  enemy, 
although  we  have  not  much  cause  to  fear  defeat,  yet  that  result 
is  possible." 

''  I  did  not  think  our  situation  was  so  serious,"  said  Ruth, 
now  evidently  alarmed.     "  What  can  we  do  ?" 

"  Nothing,  but  use  such  means  as  we  possess  for  defending 
onrselves ;  and  I  think  we  shall  succeed  in  doing  so.  But."  said 
Ralph,  with  a  slight  embarrassment,  "  at  such  a  time  as  this — 
when  we  are  threatened  with  such  a  danger,  it  is  not  surprising 
that  you  should  have  found  me  thinking  earnestly  upon  the  situa- 
tion of  one  so  dear  to  me  as  yourself.  Let  me,  Ruth,"  he  continued, 
taking  her  hand,  which  reposed  not  unwillingl}^  in  his  own,  '•  tell 
you  how  much  I  esteem  and  love  you,  and  that  my  whole  happi- 
ness depends  upon  you." 

He  paused,  and  whatever  might  have  been  the  answei  of  Ruth, 
he  saw  that  in  her  countenance  which  informed  him  that  hifl 
wishes  were  well  understood  and  answered. 

In  that  fond  dream  of  happiness  in  which  all  present  danger 
was  forgotten,  they  wandered  through  the  grove,  filled  with  those 
delightful  thoughts  and  fancies,  which  are  only  born  in  the  sweet 
hopes  of  requited  aflection. 

The  shades  of  approaching  evening  were  creeping  slowly  over 
the  valley.  The  long  shadows  of  the  trees  fell  upon  the  cleared 
meadow-land,  the  perfect  picture  of  repose.  Never  sank  a 
brighter  sun  among  more  lovely  clouds — crimsoned  in  deep  cur- 
tained folds,  with  golden  edges,  giving  full  promise  of  a  fair  to- 
morrow. 

^  It  ifi  ft  beautiful  evening,"  said  Ralph  ?  "  one  of  those  houifl 


%i  THI      FBONTIERSMEir 

when  fair  hopes  are  fairer ;  and  the  natural  world  seems  to  refleei 
the  happiness  of  our  souls.  May  this  not  be  a  promise  for  the 
future  1" 

"  May  it  be  so,"  answered  Ruth ;  "  but  what  events  may  take 
place,  before  that  sun  rises  again  !" 

"  Let  us  not  fear  too  much,"  said  Ralph.  "  We  must  meet  the 
danger  bravely,  and  when  it  is  over,  dear  Ruth,  we  shall  be  none 
the  less  happy  that  it  is  past." 

*'  Hush  !"  whispered  Ruth  suddenly,  "  look  there  !"  pointing 
to  a  grove  of  small  trees  but  eight  or  ten  rods  distant.  Ralph 
looked  in  the  direction  indicated  by  her,  and  he  beheld  three 
Indians  who  were  slowly  creeping  towards  them.  The  Indians, 
who  had  no  cover  behind  which  to  advance,  had  necessarily 
exposed  their  persons,  and  in  this  manner  had  progressed  unob- 
served for  a  number  of  rods.  They  now  saw  that  they  were 
discovered,  and  rising  with  a  wild  whoop,  rushed  towards  them. 

Ralph  and  Miss  Barton  were  just  about  equil-distant  from  the 
Indians  and  the  cottage.  Impulsively,  Ralph,  who  was  entirely 
without  means  of  defence,  caught  Ruth  in  his  arms  and  ran 
towards  the  building.  The  Indians  pursued,  and  rapidly  gained 
upon  the  fugitives.  One  of  the  pursuers  far  outsped  the  others, 
and  had  already  reached  within  twenty  feet  of  Ralph,  when  tht 
discharge  of  a  rifle  was  heard,  and  he  leaped  with  a  yel  1  into  the 
air  and  fell  struggling  upon  the  ground.  In  anothei  moment 
Ralph  and  his  precious  burden  were  inside  the  door ;  but  as  it 
closed,  the  tomahawk  of  another  pursuer  quivered  in  the  post 
btfiide  it    Instantly  the  grove  was  filled  with  enemies. 


ffBI      FBO  VTIKB8MIS.  7S 


CHAPTER    X. 

•*  That  wicked  band  of  villeins  fresh  begon, 
That  castle  to  assaile  on  every  side, 
And  lay  strong  siege  about  it  far  and  wyde." 

Chauceb — Faebic  QCKKIVB. 

This  sudden  appearance  of  the  Indians  indicated  that  they  could 
not  have  been  far  distant  at  the  time  of  the  interview  between 
Deersfoot  and  Snake-tongue  on  the  one  side,  and  Barton  and 
Ichabod  on  the  other ;  and  that  upon  the  refusal  of  the  latter  to 
surrender  the  Tuscarora,  they  had  at  once  resoived  upon  an  attack 
upon  the  cottage. 

On  the  entrance  of  Ralph  and  Miss  Barton,  they,  together  with 
Barton  and  the  negro,  who  had  remained  below,  at  once  pro- 
ceeded to  the  upper  apartment,  where  they  found  the  remainder 
of  the  party  stationed  at  the  loop-holes  on  the  south  side  of  the 
house.     Ichabod  was  loading  his  rifle. 

"  I  have  no  particular  reason  to  boast  of  uncommon  accuracy 
with  the  rifle,"  said  the  latter  as  Ralph  entered  the  room,  "  but 
I'm  most  always  good  for  a  Seneca.  That  rascal  almost  had  his 
hand  in  your  hair,  Captin." 

"  It  was  a  good  service,  Ichabod,  and  I  hope  to  live  to  thank 
you  for  it,"  said  Ralph,  grasping  his  hand. 

Don't  say  anything  about  it,  Captin :  Eagle's- Wing  would  have 
done  it  in  the  hundreth  part  of  a  second  more.  It's  only  one 
reptile  the  less." 

The  cottage,  the  precise  situation  of  which,  with  reference  to 
surrounding  objects,  we  have  not  yet  described,  was  situated  upon 
a  slight  eminence,  which  rose  gradually  westward  from  the  small 
lake  or  pond,  which  we  have  before  mentioned.  Behind  the  cot- 
tage, on  the  west,  the  land  gradually  rose,  spreading  out  into  a 
wide  plain  with  a  rolling  surface.  On  the  north,  however,,  at  the 
distance  of  only  three  or  four  rods,  there  was  a  steep  descent 
into  a  ravine  some  forty  feet  in  depth,  in  the  bottom  of  which 
flowed  a  small  brook.  This  ravine  had  not  yet  been  cleared,  and 
the  forest  approached,  consequently,  to  within  four  rods  of  the 
cottage.  On  the  south,  the  land  gradually  sloped  downwards  for 
four  or  five  rods,  while  at  about  twice  that  distance  was  left 
standing  a  grove  of  small  trees  of  two  or  three  acres  in  extent. 
It  was  in  this  grove  that  the  Senecas  were  first  discovered. 

It  was  obvious  that  the  most  dangerous  point  of  attack  wm 
from  the  north }  as  in  that  direction,  the  forest  approached  so  ami 


t6  THE      FSONTIEBSMIV. 

the  cottage,  that  the  Senecas  might  obtain  a  cover  behind  ih« 
trees,  and  should  such  be  their  object,  find  some  means  to  set 
the  buildings  on  fire. 

The  Senecas,  however,  still  remained  in  the  grove,  and  did  not 
show  any  immediate  intention  of  proceeding  to  the  attack  They 
were  gathered  together,  while  Panther,  who  was  easily  recognized 
by  Ichabod,  was  haranguing  them  ;  but  although  his  words  could 
not  be  heard,  there  was  no  diflBculty  iii  understanding  from  his 
manner  and  gestures  that  he  was  explaining  the  mode  in  which 
the  attack  should  be  made. 

"  I  reckon,"  said  Ichabod,  "  that  I  might  easily  pick  off  that 
varmint,  even  at  this  distance." 

"  No,"  said  Ralph,  "  we  are  on  the  defensive,  and  we  will  not 
commence  the  fight.  If  they  make  an  attack  upon  us,  then  we 
will  all  try  to  do  our  duty." 

"  I  fancy  it  was  something  pretty  nigh  an  attack,"  said  Ichabod, 
"  that  them  rascals  just  made  on  you  and  Miss  Ruth.  But,  per- 
haps, it's  all  right,  Captin.  That  account  was  settled  on  the  spot ; 
and  may  be  it  won't  be  agin  law  for  us  to  wait  until  the  scoun- 
drels open  another." 

A  small  room  had  been  constructed  near  the  centre  of  the  main 
apartment,  supposed  to  be  entirely  secure  from  any  stray  bullet 
that  might  chance  to  enter  the  loop-holes. 

Into  this  small  apartment,  Ruth  had  entered,  on  reaching  the 
upper  part  of  the  house :  but  now  she  made  her  appearance  among 
the  little  garrison,  with  a  great  confidence,  and  a  determination 
to  make  herself  of  service  if  possible. 

"  Do  not  remain  here,  Ruth,"  said  Barton :  you  may  be  ex- 
posed to  danger  from  some  stray  shot.  It  would  be  much  bet- 
ter that  you  should  be  entirely  out  of  danger." 

"  This  request  was  seconded  by  Ralph,  with  a  look  of  earnest 
entreaty. 

'^  I  do  not  fear  any  danger,"  answered  Ruth.  "  I  can  certainly 
be  of  no  service  shut  up  in  that  narrow  cell ;  while  I  may  pos- 
sibly be  of  some  little  service  to  you  here.  I  can  act  as  a  look- 
out, you  know,"  advancing  quietly  to  one  of  the  loop-holes. 

"  No  good  for  squaw  to  be  in  fight,"  said  the  Tuscarora,  quietly  j 
"  squaw  hide  when  warriors  fight,  that  best  for  squaw." 

"  I  am  not  going  to  shoulder  a  rifle,  Eagle's-Wing,  without  it 
is  absolutely  necessary  j  but  I  want  to  look  on,  and  see  how 
warriors  can  fight." 

It  was  evident  that  Ruth  was  not  to  be  dissuaded  from  sharing 
the  danger,  if  danger  there  was,  to  which  the  defenders  of  the 
cottage  were  exposed.  Ichabod,  who  during  this  brief  conversa- 
tion had  remained  watching  intently  the  motions  of  the  enemy, 
now  exclaimed : 

^  There  are  twenty  of  the  red  varmints,  sartin,  bat  ihsf  donk^t 


fB8      rftONTIERSMEK.  tt 

»eem  very  anxious  to  begin  the  fight.    What  d'ye  think  they 
mean  to  do,  Eagle's-Wing  ?" 

"  Mean  to  'tack  cottage ;  that  what  they  mean:  wait  till  dark, 
then  see  what  they  do." 

"  There's  some  motion  among  'em  now,"  said  Ichabod,  "  there 
go  the  reptiles,  creeping  off  through  the  wood.  They're  diving 
now,  but  they'll  come  up  again  somewhere,  I  reckon." 

"  I  rather  calculate"  said  Guthrie,  who  had  thus  far  remained 
silent,  that  they're  going  to  give  up  the  business  as  a  bad  job. 
That's  the  b^t  thing  they  can  do,  any  way." 

"  Warriors  mean  to  surround  cottage.  That  what  it  means," 
said  the  Tuscarora.  Pretty  soon  hear  'em  over  there, — hear  'em 
all  round— see  'em,  may  be,  if  watch." 

Night  was  now  rapidly  approaching,  and  surrounding  objects 
had  already  become  indistinct.  One  by  one,  the  stars  made  their 
appearance,  glaring  with  the  peculiar  brightness  of  an  autumn 
evening.  Yet  the  darkness  would  soon  be  sufficient  to  prevent 
any  observation  of  the  motions  of  the  enemy,  unless  they  should 
make  their  appearance  within  the  little  clearing  that  surrounded 
the  cottage.  There  would  yet  be  three  hours  before  the  moon 
would  rise ;  and  during  that  time  the  very  closest  observation 
would  be  necessary  to  detect  the  whereabouts  of  the  savages, 
except  as  their  position  should  be  manifested  by  an  open  attack. 

Ichabod  and  the  Tuscarora  now  took  a  position  upon  the  north 
side  of  the  apartment,  while  Ralph  and  Barton  remained  at  the 
south  side.  Sambo  was  stationed  on  the  west,  towards  the  cat- 
tle enclosure,  while  Guthrie  was  directed  to  keep  a  look-out  on  the 
east  or  front  of  the  house.  This  was  apparently  the  least  danger- 
ous point,  as  the  land  on  this  side  was  partially  cleared  quite  to 
the  shore  of  the  pond. 

But  a  few  minutes  had  elapsed  after  this  disposition  of  the 
forces  of  the  little  garrison,  before  it  was  evident  to  the  Tusca- 
rora and  Ichabod,  that  a  portion  of  the  enemy  had  taken  a  posi- 
tion in  the  ravine.  The  night  was  so  still,  that  the  slightest 
sound  could  be  heard  from  that  distance,  and  the  Tuscarora  qui- 
etly called  the  attention  of  his  companion  to  a  slight  snapping  of 
dry  underbrush  which  had  been  trodden  upon  by  the  foot  of 
some  careless  Seneca ;  but,  as  if  to  deceive  the  defenders  of  the 
cottage  as  to  the  point  from  which  the  main  attack  would  be 
made,  suddenly,  and  as  if  by  one  impulse,  the  silence  was  broken 
by  the  yells  of  the  enemy  from  all  directions,  and  a  general  dis- 
charge of  their  guns  at  the  building. 

"  Yell  and  fire,  you  infernal  reptiles."  said  Rhabod.  "  They 
must  have  plenty  of  ammunition,  to  waste  it  in  that  style." 

"  That  done  to  cheat,"  said  Eagle's-Wing. 

"  Well,  they've  commenced  the  skrimmage,  any  way,"  said 
Ichabod,  "  and  now,  let  one  of  them  miserable  creturs  get  before 
this  rifle  of  mine  and  I'll  settle  an  account  with  him." 


t8  THE      FRONTIERSUBV. 

"  We  shall  be  over  nice  in  our  scruples  "  said  Ralph,  "  if  wi 
hesitate  any  longer  to  treat  them  as  enemies.  They  have  cer- 
tainly committed  an  overt  act  of  war ;  and  duty  to  ourselves 
will  no  longer  allow  us  to  remain  inactive." 

Since  the  first  demonstration  on  the  part  of  the  Senecas,  no 
other  had  been  made ;  and  the  silence  without  was  as  perfect 
and  uninterrupted  as  though  no  enemy-  surrounded  them. 

It  was  obvious  that  the  two  most  serious  dangers  to  be  encoun- 
tered, were  past — an  attempt  on  the  part  of  the  enemy  to  get 
under  cover  of  the  walls  of  the  cottage,  wh^re  they  would  be  in 
a  great  measure  protected  from  the  rifles  inside,  and  where  they 
might  find  means  to  force  the  doors ;  and,  secondly,  an  attempt 
to  set  fire  to  the  buildings. 

Any  object  of  the  size  of  a  man  could  readily,  notwithstanding 
the  darkness,  be  seen  at  the  distance  of  four  or  five  rods  ;  and 
ihe  garrison  were  certain,  thus  far,  that  no  enemy  had  approached 
within  that  distance.  Ichabod  and  the  Tuscarora,  as  has  been 
observed,  were  stationed  upon  the  north  side  of  the  apartment. 
The  position  which  had  been  chosen  by  the  former,  was  near  to 
the  north-eastern  angle,  whence,  with  a  little  trouble,  he  might 
also  keep  a  look-out  on  the  east.  This  position  had  been  chosen 
by  him,  owing  to  the  distrust  he  entertained  of  the  fidelity  of 
Guthrie ;  for  there  was  nothing  in  the  conduct  of  the  latter 
since  his  return  to  the  cottage,  that  had  been  calculated  to  dispel 
any  suspicions  which  Ichabod  had  entertained  of  his  real  charao- 
ter.  He  had  taken  little  or  no  part  in  the  plans  of  defence,  and 
had  maintained  a  moody  silence  that  had  rarely  been  broken* 
except  by  brief  answers  to  such  questions  as  were  put  to  him. 

"  I  say,  fricDd,"  said  Ichabod,  addressing  Guthrie,  "  you  keep 
a  sharp  look-out  over  there,  don't  you  ?" 

"  I've  been  a  woodsman  all  my  life,  I  reckon,"  answered  the 
latter,  "  and  I  don't  need  any  instructions  on  that  point." 

"  I  don't  suppose  you  do,  friend,"  said  Ichabod,  "  and  least  of 
all  from  me.  I  can't  say  as  /  have  been  a  regular  woodsman, 
although  I've  had  a  little  experience  in  the  way  of  savages.  A 
man  who  has  spent  a  few  years  fighting  for  his  life,  learns, 
after  a  while,  to  know  when  its  in  danger ;  but  can  you  guess 
what  that  black  lump  may  be,  out  yonder — right  ahead  of  your 
eyes  ?" 

"  W3II,  if  I  can  seB  straight,  its  a  stump,  and  nothing  more." 

"  I  ain't  much  acquainted  in  these  parts,  friend,  and  it  may  be 
you've  got  stumps  here  that  wander  round  the  lots  at  pleasure , 
but  /  calculate  that  object  ain't  nothing  but  a  venomous  reptile." 
said  Ichabod,  taking  sight  over  his  rifle  upon  the  object  which 
attracted  his  attention.  "  Now,  you  see,  if  that's  a  stump,  this 
bullet  won't  hurt  it  much ;  but  if  its  an  Injin,  he'll  signify  it 
•ome  way." 

rho  rifle  of  Ichabod  was  discharged ;  ittid  the  Seneca — for  an 


TflK       FKONTIERSMEjr.  T9 


fndian  it  was — who,  creeping  to  reach  a  cover  under  the  wall 
rose  to  his  feet  with  a  leap,  and  then  staggered  and  fell. 

Again  was  that  wild  yell  renewed,  but  in  a  moment  all  was 
silent.  Guthrie  ashamed,  became  angry,  and  turned  with  a  fierce 
Bcowl  on  Ichabod. 

"  You  havn't  a  very  civil  way  to  strangers,  friend,"  said  he. 
"  and  we  may  find  time  to  settle  this  business.  You  may  bully 
Injins,  but  you  won't  me." 

"  I've  just  did  my  duty  on  that  red  varmint  there,"  answered 
Ichabod  coolly ;  *•  and  all  I've  got  to  say,  friend,  is,  that  we've  got 
enemies  enough  out-doors  to  attend  to,  without  any  civil-war 
inside  ;  but  I  ain't  particular." 

"  Ichabod !  Guthrie  !"  exclaimed  Barton,  "  let  there  be  no  ill- 
blood  between  you  now ;  the  mistake  of  Guthrie  might  easily 
have  been  made  by  any  one,  however  experienced." 

Guthrie  turned  again  towards  the  loop-hole,  muttering  indis- 
tinctly.    As  for  Ichabod,  he  quietly  reloaded  his  rifle  saying : 

"  That's  right,  Squire,  I'm  a  man  of  peace,  any  way — except 
with  them  infarnal  Senecas.  If  I  have  any  particular  gift  of 
which  I  can  boast,  it  is  in  another  sort  of  speculation.  Give  it 
to  'em  Eagle's-Wing !"  said  he,  as  at  this  moment,  he  saw  the 
Tuscarora  about  discharging  his  rifle.  At  the  discharge,  the 
whole  ravine  seemed  to  pour  out  a  tempest  of  shrieks. 

"  That  Injin,"  said  Eagle's-Wing,  "  won't  fight  any  more — 
great  pity  lose  his  scalp  though." 

"Never  mind  the  scalp,  Eagle's-Wing,"  replied  Ichabod,  '•  if 
you  fix  the  owner,  so  that  he  won't  have  any  more  use  for  it ; 
that's  my  doctrine." 

"  That  bad  doctrine  for  Injin — good  doctrine  for  pale-face 
p'raps." 

Notwithstanding  the  utmost  watchfulness,  on  the  part  of  the 
besieged,  no  further  demonstration  was  made  by  the  Senecas,  for 
nearly  an  hour ;  until,  at  length,  they  began  to  hope  that  the 
contest  might  already  be  terminated,  and  that  the  loss  of  three 
of  their  warriors,  without  having  been  able  to  inflict  any  injury 
upon  the  garrison,  had  discouraged  the  Indians.  As  time  passed 
by,  no  further  attack  being  made,  even  Ichabod  and  the  Tusca- 
rora began  to  yield  to  the  belief  which  Barton  had  expressed , 
but  they  did  not  for  a  moment  relax  their  watchfulness. 

Barton,  Ralph  and  Ruth,  had  finally  withdrawn  from  the  loop- 
holes, while  Guthrie  lounged  moodily  about. 

"  I  think,"  said  Barton,  "  we  shall  have  nothing  more  to 
apprehend  to-night.  The  savages  have  doubtless  repented  of 
their  temerity  in  attacking  a  place  so  well  defended  as  this." 

"  Heaven  grant  it  may  be  so,"  replied  Ruth.     "  We  have  had 
but  little  experience,  thus  far,  in  the  terrors  of  Indian  warfare 
but  as  it  is,  it  is  horrible." 

"  I  hope,  with  you,  Miss  Barton,"  said  Ralph, ''  that  the  Indiani 

4         -^_ 


80  THB      FB0NTIEBSMB9. 

have  abandoned  the  attack ;  and  yet  I  know  so  well  thdf 
treacherous  mode  of  warfare,  that  it  would  not  be  surprising  to 
me,  were  the  severest  part  of  our  labor  yet  to  come.  Ichabod 
seems,  by  his  actions,  to  have  the  same  opinion." 

"  Yes,  Captin,"  answered  Ichabod,  I  do  mistrust  these  infarnal 
villians ;  and  I  shall  mistrust  'em  till  day-light,  sartin.  You'l 
find  that  they're  plotting  some  deviltry  which  we  shall  know 
about  before  we  are  many  hours  older." 

"■  It  is  strange,"  said  Ruth,  "  that  these  savages  should  so  resist 
all  attempts  for  their  improvement ;  and  that  they  should  per- 
sist in  their  cruel  mode  of  warfare,  after  having  received  so  much 
mstruction  from  Christian  teachers." 

"  I  do  not  think  it  so  very  strange,  perhaps,"  answered  Ralph. 
"Their  habits — their  modes  of  life,  are  the  result  of  ages  of 
barbarity,  and  traditions  communicated  from  father  to  son.  No 
continuous  effort  has  ever  beeu  made  to  Christianize  them  ;  and 
it  would  be  a  miracle,  were  we  to  find  them  now  with  Christian 
sentiments — adopting  an  entirely  new  mode  of  life." 

"  That's  my  opinion,  Captin."  said  Ichabod.  "  That  specula- 
tion  has  been  a  failure,  and  it  always  will  be  a  failure.  You 
might  as  well  talk  of  civilizing  wolves.  Why,  there's  the  Oneida 
nation,  who  have  pretty  much  all  been  to  school,  and  sat  under 
sermons  month  after  month, — let  them  hear  the  war-hoop,  and 
they're  as  crazy  as  devils,  and  dont  think  of  anything  but  scalps. 
Here's  Eagle's- Wing,  being  just  as  good  a  gentleman,  for  an 
Injin,  as  ever  wore  moccasins — I'll  warrant  you  some  foolish 
missionary  reckons  hiin  for  a  convarted  Injin  ;  and  yet,"  said  he, 
with  a  whisper,  "  you'll  find  that  infernal  Seneca's  scalp  some- 
where about  him  now.  Don't  talk  to  me  of  convarting  Injins. 
I  don't  think  they  were  ever  intended  to  be  convarted." 

"  You  remember  the  divine  injunction  to  the  apostles,  Ichabod  ?" 
asked  Ruth  ;  "  that  they  were  to  go  into  all  the  world,  and  preach 
the  gospel  to  every  creature  ?" 

"  Lord  love  you,  girl !"  answered  Ichabod,  "  you  don't  suppose 
that  meant  to  come  over  to  America  among  these  tomahawking 
savages !  You  see,  in  the  first  place,  it  would  have  been  something 
of  a  job  for  one  of  them  apostles  to  have  got  here ;  and  in  the 
second  place,  he'd  wished  himself  away  again,  in  a  hurry." 

"  I  agree  with  Miss  Barton,"  said  Ralph,  "  that  there  is  no 
reason  why  these  savages  might  not  learn  to  cherish  Christian 
principles.  The  efforts  of  the  Jesuits  show  that  something  can 
be  done  to  civilize  them ;  and  the  labors  of  Elliot  among  the 
New  England  Indians  prove  that  they  can  be  Christianized." 

"  I  reckon  there's  two  sides  to  that  question,"  answered 
Ichabod,  "  I've  heard  that  those  Injins  were  more  troublesome 
„han  them  that  did'nt  have  any  preaching.  Their  religion  all 
stopped  with  drinking  Christianized  rum.  No,  Captin,  yoa 
can't  give  me  any  faith  in  that  expectation,  any  way." 


THE      FRONTIERSMEN.  81 

*  Vm  afraid  Mr.  Jenkins,"  said  Ruth,  "  that  the  same  reasons 
jrou  urge  against  the  conversion  and  improvement  of  the  Indians, 
would  apply  as  well  to  all  mankind  generally  as  to  them.  There 
are  but  few,  of  all  who  listen  to  the  Scriptures,  who  act  upon 
their  precepts.  They  hear,  as  you  say  the  Indians  do,  and  at 
once  forget,  in  their  worldly  intercourse,  that  there  is  such  a  book 
as  the  Bible." 

"  Well.  I  can't  dispute  that  p'int,"  replied  Tchabod.  "  In  these 
new  settlements,  where  men  have  so  much  to  do,  they  ar'nt  so 
much  to  blame,  if  they  can't  understand  what  the  preachers  in 
the  city  are  quarreling  about.  I've  lived  a  long  while  in  the 
woods,  and  about  the  new  settlement,  Miss  Ruth,  and  havn't  had 
much  time  to  settle  doctrinal  controvarsies ;  but  I've  got  a  faith 
of  my  own,  which  wouldn't,  perhaps,  answer  for  you ;  and  yet 
I'm  willing  to  live  by  it,  and  die  by  it." 

"  Of  how  many  articles  does  your  faith  consist  ?"  asked  Ralph, 
smiling. 

"  Well,  Captin.  that  may  be  as  you've  a  mind  to  classify  the 
different  p'ints.  I  don't  coincide  quite,  in  my  views  of  future 
life,  with  old  Michael  Wigglesworth,  who  had  no  marcy  for  any- 
body but  his  own  sect — not  for  infants  even.  You  recollect  the 
varses  on  infants,  Captin,  where  he  says  that  although  in  bliss — 

"  They  may  not  hope  to  dwell, 
Still  unto  them  he  will  allow 
The  easiest  room  in  hell." 

No,  Captin.  a  man  cannot  live  in  the  forests,  and  look  continually 
at  the  works  of  God,  and  forget  that  He  exists ;  and  I  reckon  that 
a  man  who  always  bears  Him  in  mind,  whether  he  be  felling  the 
trees,  planting  the  ground,  turning  his  hand  in  an  honest  specu- 
lation, or  shooting  a  Seneca,  will  have  marcy  shown  to  him 
eventually.     That's  my  doctrine." 

"  It  is  a  creed  that  has  the  merit  of  being  short,  if  not  ortho- 
dox," said  Ralph.  "  But  I  must  acknowledge,  that  while  I  have 
not  paid  the  attention  to  religious  matters  that  I  ought  to  have 
done,  and  have  been  too  forgetful  of  claims  that  have  been  im- 
posed upon  all  men,  yet,  from  all  my  doubts,  I  have  ever  returned 
to  the  Bible  as  the  only  sure  anchor  of  faith.  Its  opening  reve- 
lations are  corroborated  in  the  history  or  tradition  of  all  nations ; 
its  divine  teachings,  interpreted  according  to  the  simple  under- 
standing of  one's  own  heart,  accord  with  our  reason — satisfy  our 
Dopts — alleviate  our  sorrows — cheer  us  in  death.  The  unin- 
structed  feelings  of  the  heart,  in  this  matter,  are  a  purer,  more 
excellent  wisdom,  than  all  the  pride  of  intellect." 

"  Well,  Captin,"  said  Ichabod,  ''  I  never  dispute  on  creeds — 
60  you  are  welcome  to  5'^our's ;  but  on  facts,  I've  got  a  right  to 
express  my  opinion.  Now,  as  for  them  opening  chapters  being 
oorroborated  by  the  history  of  all  nations— that's  a  question  os 


82  THE      FF3NTIERSHBir 

feet,  which  I'm  willing  to  leave  to  Eagle's-Wing,  whose  nation^ 
according  to  their  traditions,  is  older  than  I'd  like  to  vouch  foF, 
Now,  he'll  tell  you  that  the  first  thing  that  was  made  was  a 
tortoise  and  that  the  earth  was  then  made  and  placed  upon  its 
back.  I  say,  Eagle's-Wing Thunder  and  lightning  !'*  ex- 
claimed he,  springing  towards  the  stairway. 

The  fact  was,  that  Ichabod  had  been  so  much  engaged  in  this 
conversation,  relying  upon  the  prudence  and  watchfulness  of  the 
Tuscarora,  that  he  had  given  up  all  his  attention  to  it.  But  upon 
making  his  appeal  to  the  Tuscarora,  he  had  turned  towards  the 
position  lately  occupied  by  him.  when  he  discovered  that  both 
he  and  Guthrie  were  missing. 

Scarcely  had  he  sprung  towards  the  stairway,  ere  there  rang 
through  the  cottage  a  shriek  of  agony,  immediately  followed  by 
the  sound  of  a  heavy  body  falling  upon  the  floor,  in  the  room 
below.  This  was  succeeded  by  a  tempest  of  shrieks,  which 
apparently  came  from  the  whole  body  of  the  enemy,  who  were 
now  close  under  the  cover  of  the  building,  in  front  of  the  south 
door. 

Ichabod  was  followed  by  Barton  and  Ralph,  down  the  stair- 
way. As  they  came  towards  the  door,  they  beheld  the  Tusca- 
rora standing  silently  beside  it,  while  at  his  feet  lay  a  black 
mass,  indistinct  in  the  darkness,  which  they  took  to  be  the  body 
of  Guthrie. 

"What  is  the  meaning  of  this,  Eagle's-Wing?"  demanded 
Barton. 

The  Tuscarora  quietly  pointed  towards  the  door,  the  bar  of 
which  was  partially  raised.  "  He  traitor  ;  got  bad  heart ;  meant 
to  open  door  and  let  Seneca  come  in.  Can't  do  it  now,  if  he  try 
ever  so  much." 

"  Eagle's-Wing,"  said  Barton,  ^^ith  emotion,  "  you  have  saved 
our  lives  to-night.     We  owe  you  a  double  debt  of  gratitude." 

"  I  suspected  that  fellow  from  the  beginning,"  said  Ichabod, 
"  and  Eagle's-Wing  and  I  agreed  to  watch  him  ;  but  you're  a 
better  warrior  than  I,  old  friend  ;  you  don't  sufier  yourself  to  be 
divarted  by  doctrinal  p'ints." 

It  was  now  evident  that  some  important  movement  was  taking 
place  out  of  doors.  Scarcely  had  Ichabod  ceased  speaking,  ere 
the  door  received  a  violent  blow,  as  from  a  log  thrown  against 
it  with  great  force.   ^ 

"  We  can't  stand  that  thumping,"  said  Ichabod.  "  We've  been 
on  the  defence  agin  them  red  devils  long  enough.  Let's  open  the 
door  and  give  'em  fight." 

After  some  deliberation,  this  course  was  resolved  upon.  The 
party  within  doors  were  to  range  themselves  in  front  of  the  door, 
where  they  would  not  at  once  be  discovered  in  the  darkness,  by 
those  outside ;  and  as  the  log  wae  next  thrown,  and  while  the 
Indians  would  probably  be  unprepared  for  this  sudden  attaok; 


TITS      FRONTIERSMZir  88 

the  door  was  to  be  suddenly  thrown  open,  when  the  whole  party 
would  deliver  their  fire.  In  the  surprise,  they  might  as  sud- 
denly close  it,  should  it  be  deemed  necessary.  This  attack,  from 
its  very  boldness  and  seeming  temerity,  would  be  likely  to  suc- 
ceed. 

Scarcely  was  the  resolution  formed  and  the  party  arranged 
ere  the  door  received  another  shock,  and  was  immediately  thrown 
wide  open  by  Barton.  There  were  gathered  before  it  ten  or 
twelve  Indians,  four  of  whom  held  in  their  hands  a  log  of  five  or 
six  inches  in  thickness  and  about  twelve  feet  in  length,  with 
which  they  were  endeavoring  to  force  the  door.  Immediately 
the  five  rifles  inside  were  discharged,  and  two  of  the  Indians  fell. 
The  remainder,  surprised  at  this  sudden  attack,  for  a  moment 
seemed  paralysed.  The  Tuscarora,  no  longer  to  be  restrained, 
but  impelled  not  only  by  his  Indian  instincts,  but  by  his  hatred 
of  the  Senecas,  leaped  from  the  door,  with  his  knife  in  his  hand, 
upon  one  of  the  prostrate  Indians. 

At  this  sudden  appearance  of  the  Tuscarora,  the  Senecas  filled 
the  air  with  shrieks,  and  rushed  towards  him.  But  ere  they  had 
reached  him,  he  rose  erect  with  the  scalp  of  the  Seneca  in  his 
hand,  and  waving  it  over  his  head,  uttered  his  defiance  with  a 
ferocious  scream.  Ichabod  and  Ralph,  in  a  moment,  were  by  his 
side  ;  and  now  commenced  a  hand-to-hand  combat,  most  despe- 
rate, indeed,  on  the  part  of  the  besieged.  Barton  and  the  negro, 
who  had  again  loaded  their  rifles,  once  more  discharged  them 
upon  the  Senecas,  and  then  sprang  to  the  assistance  of  their 
friends.  Another  Indian  had  fallen,  so  that  now  there  was  no 
such  fearful  disparity  of  odds  as  when  the  strife  commenced. 
Had  it  not  been  for  the  impulse  of  the  Tuecarora,  the  ruse  of 
Ichabod  would  have  been  completely  successful ;  but  Ralph, 
although  engaged  warmly  in  the  melee,  saw  the  unfortunate 
position  in  which  they  were  now  placed.  There  were  at  least  a 
dozen  more  of  the  Senecas  about  the  cottage,  who  would  be  im- 
mediately attracted  hither  by  the  noise  of  the  conflict,  while  the 
cottage  was  now  entirely  undefended,  and  Ruth  exposed  to  the 
hostility  of  any  savage  who  might  take  advantage  of  the  conflict 
to  force  his  way  into  the  building. 

"  To  the  door !"  cried  he  ;  "  retreat  towards  the  door  at  once.'' 

The  darkness  added  to  the  terror  and  difficulty  of  the  conflict. 
Ichabod  found  himself,  at  first,  engaged  with  Snake-tongue;  but 
a  blow  from  the  butt-end  of  his  rifle  ended  the  unequal  conflict, 
and  the  Seneca  lay  disabled.  "  Take  that,  you  infarnal  slan- 
derer," he  cried,  as  he  dealt  the  blow.  "  Learn  to  use  your 
cussed  snake's  tongue  with  more  moderation,  when  speaking  •£ 
respectable  females."  But  Deersfoot  now  rushed  upon  him,  aad 
%  strife  commenced,  more  equal ;  both  strong  and  powerful 
in  frame,  they  were  well  matched.  Ichabod  caught  the  first 
blow  of  the  tomahawk  upon  his  rifle,  and  then,  ere  the  Indiaa 


84  THX      FSONTIERSMBir. 

oould  use  his  knife,  his  long,  muscular  arms  were  about  him. 
For  a  moment  they  wavered,  as  in  an  equal  struggle,  when  both 
fell  to  the  ground.  At  the  same  moment,  a  number  more  of  the 
enemy  came  leaping  to  join  the  conflict. 

•  To  the  door,  for  your  lives !"  shouted  Ralph.  The  contest  was 
now  desperate ;  and  slowly  retreating,  they  reached  the  door, 
the  Tuscarora,  being  last  to  cross  the  treshhold.  The  Indians 
followed,  leaping  into  the  door-way ;'  but  the  Tuscarora,  with  the 
sweep  of  his  rifle,  for  a  moment  drove  them  backwards,  then 
springing  within,  the  door  was  closed. 

None  of  the  party  had  escaped  without  injury  ;  and  it  was  not 
until  the  door  was  closed,  and  the  air  rang  with  triumphant  yells 
from  the  Senecas,  that  it  was  discovered  that  Ichabod  was  missing. 
The  first  impulse  was  again  to  open  the  door,  and  rescue  him,  at 
any  odds ;  but  a  moment's  reflection  taught  Ralph,  that  such  a 
course,  now  that  the  Senecas  were  reinforced,  would  only  put 
their  own  lives  in  the  utmost  jeopardy,  without  their  being  able 
to  assist  their  friend. 

"  No  good  for  you  to  open  door,"  said  Eagle's-Wing,  "  I  go  and 
save  friend." 

*'  No,  no,  Eagle's-Wing,"  exclaimed  Barton.  "  you  cannot  save 
him  now ;  and  you  will  only  lose  your  own  life,  and  peril  our's. 
They  will  not  take  his  scalp,  but  they  will  yours. 

"  That  true — won't  kill  him  to-night,  any  way.  He  great  war- 
rior— they  like  to  torture  great  warriors.  We  save  him  to-mor- 
row, some  way." 

It  was  with  a  feeling  of  sorrow  that  Ralph  acknowledged  their 
inability  to  do  anything  for  the  rescue  of  Ichabod.  Willingly 
would  he  have  risked  his  own  life  j  but  there  was  Ruth — who 
together  with  the  others,  might  be  sacrificed  by  the  imprudent 
attempt.  With  a  feeling  of  deep  grief,  he  was  obliged  to  leave 
him  to  his  fate. 

It  was  now  disjcovered,  too,  that  Guthrie  was  gone.  Could  it 
be  that  his  body  had  been  removed  by  a  Seneca  during  the  con- 
flict ?  It  was  not  possible  ;  and  it  was  evident,  that  while  in  the 
darkness,  he  was  supposed  to  have  been  slain  by  the  Tuscarora^ 
he  had  counterfeited  death,  hoping  to  find  some  means  of  escape. 
With  beating  hearts,  Ralph  and  Barton,  proceeded  up  the  stair- 
way. They  reached  the  apartment  which  they  had  so  recently 
left :  but  it  was  empty.  From  the  window,  near  which  Guthrie 
had  stood,  the  fastening  had  been  removed  from  the  frame  work 
of  bars,  and  it  was  certain  that  through  this  window  Guthrie  had 
wcaped,  aiv!  had  carried  with  him  the  unfoitunate  Ruth. 


THI      rBONTIBBSMIir.  86 


CHAPTER  XL 

"  'Tifl  Tain  to  sigh  \  the  wheel  must  on ; 
And  straws  are  to  the  whirlpool  drawn 
With  ships  of  gallant  mien." 

Fbknkav 

No  SOONER  had  Barton  realized  his  loss,  than  he  gave  him- 
self up  to  the  bitterest  feelings  of  despair.  This  interim  warf 
succeeded  by  a  burning  thirst  for  revenge.  "  Come,  Ralph ! — 
Come,  Eagle's-Wing !  let  us  pursue  them — let  us  destroy  them ! 
Oh,  my  God  !  thus  in  my  old  age  to  suffer  this  heavy  blow !" 
and,  excited  to  madness,  he  fled  down  the  stairway,  followed  by 
Ralph  and  the  Tuscarora.  Before  they  could  overtake  him,  he 
had  unbarred  the  door,  and  crossed  the  threshhold:  but  no 
enemy  was  there. 

Ralph,  himself  overwhelmed  with  grief,  endeavored  to  console 
the  old  man ;  but  there  was  no  balm  for  such  a  wound,  and  he 
fell  fainting  into  the  arms  of  Ralph. 

Ralph,  although  overborne  by  grief,  possessed  a  firmness  of 
mind  that  sought  a  rememy  for  affliction,  where  a  remedy  waa 
attainable,  instead  of  tamely  yielding.  Anxiously  he  and  the 
Tuscarora  counseled  together  upon  the  course  to  be  pursued. 
Whether  Ruth  had  been  taken  prisoner  either  by  Guthrie  or  the 
Indians,  the  result  would  be  the  same — she  would  be  a  captive 
among  the  Senecas.  They  did  not  believe  any  attempt  would 
be  made  upon  her  life  5  but  they  did  fear  that  the  Indians,  who 
had,  for  the  present  at  least,  abandoned  their  attack  upon  the 
cottage,  satisfied  with  the  prisoners  they  had  taken,  might  at 
once  attempt  a  march  to  the  country  of  the  Senecas,  and  thus 
hold  their  prisoners  in  a  long  and  tedious  captivity.  It  was, 
then,  with  much  anxiety  that  they  consulted  together  upon  the 
course  now  to  be  adopted.  But  we  will  leave  them  for  the 
present,  to  follow  the  fortunes  of  Ichabod. 

After  he  had  b€€n  deserted,  unintentionally,  by  his  companions, 
the  strife  between  him  and  Deersfoot  was  no  longer  equaL 
Scarcely  had  the  Senecas  been  foiled  in  their  attempt  to  follow 
their  intended  victims  into  the  cottage,  ere  Ichabod  was  seized, 
and  his  arms  securely  pinioned.  The  Senecas  manifested  their 
joy  by  the  most  ferocious  yells,  when  they  discovered  that  they 
had  in  their  possession  an  enemy  so  formidable. 

"  Yell,  you  red  devils !"  exclaimed  Ichabod :  "  Ten  to  one  ain't 
worth  crowing  about.  But  I'll  tell  you  what — give  me  that  rifle 
of  mire,  and  I'll  tackle  any  five  of  you,  any  way.  But  I  nerer 
did  know  a  Seaeca  that  bad  a  particle  of  Uie  gentleman  about 
him." 


S€  THE      FR0NTI8RSMIV. 

The  Indians  did  not  deign  any  reply  to  this  proposition,  but 
at  once  made  preparations  to  remove  their  prisoner.  Four  of  the 
Senecaa  were  placed  as  a  guard  about  him,  and  the  march  was 
begun  towards  their  encampment.  The  remainder  of  the  party 
bore  the  dead  bodies  of  their  companions,  who  had  been  killed 
in  the  affray :  but  Ichabod  noticed  that  there  were  only  fifteen 
in  this  party,  and  consequently  there  must  be  eight  or  ten  more 
either  about  the  cottage,  or  else  already  on  the  march  toward* 
their  camp. 

The  route  pursued  by  the  Senecas,  was  that  which  we  have 
already  described  as  the  one  traveled  by  Ralph  and  Miss  Barton 
on  a  former  occasion,  until  they  passed  the  shanty,  when  they 
struck  ofF  towards  the  left,  in  the  direction  of  the  river. 

The  encampment,  or  temporary  village  of  the  Senecas,  was 
located  in  the  widest  portion  of  the  flats  we  have  before  noticed, 
xad  at  a  distance  of  about  ten  or  fifteen  rods  from  the  river, 
which  at  this  point  flowed  for  nearly  a  hundred  rods  in  a  north 
and  south  line.  But  before  reaching  this  point,  the  course  of 
the  stream  was  extremely  serpentine,  making  several  long  wind- 
ings through  the  valley. 

The  encampment  was  in  a  clearing  of  an  acre  or  two  in  extent; 
wkich  had  evidently  been  cleared  many  years  before;  for  the 
^r— Jid  was  covered  with  a  rich  green-sward,  while  three  or  four  old 
steiape,  scattered  about  the  field,  denoted  that  years  had  elapsed 
aoce  it  had  been  rescued  from  the  dominion  of  the  forest.  It 
was  in  an  oral  form,  and  entirely  surrounded  by  wilderness.  In 
the  midist  of  this  field  or  clearing,  there  had  been  erected  five  or 
aix  temporary  huts,  by  the  use  of  some  small  saplings  and  boughs, 
sufficient  to  answer  for  a  protection  from  the  sun,  as  well  as  from 
'^k»  rains.  These  huts  were  arranged  in  a  circle,  and  in  the  cen- 
tre was  one  smaller  than  the  others  ;  and  from  the  fact,  that  it 
was  more  neatly  as  well  as  securely  constructed,  Ichabod  guessed 
that  it  must  be  occupied  by  Singing-Bird. 

The  party  accompanying  Ichabod,  had  reached  the  clearing 
soon  after  sunrise,  when  he  was  led  to  one  of  the  outer  huts. 
where,  after  his  captors  had  securely  fastened  his  feet,  he  was  left 
iiipon  a  bed  of  leaves  and  boughs  to  digest  his  thoughts  as  he  was 
best  able  under  the  circumstances.  He  had  not  remained  a  long 
time  in  this  condition,  before  he  heard  the  noise  of  the  arrival  of 
another  party  ;  and  he  readily  imagined,  from  the  joy  with  which 
they  were  received,  that  they,  also,  had  brought  with  them  a  cap- 
tive from  the  cottage.  Who  this  could  be,  he  could  not  conjec- 
ture ;  and  this  fact  rendered  his  position  still  more  uneasy.  He 
bad  already  devised  half-a-dozen  plans,  through  some  of  which,  ho 
calculated  upon  his  escape,  together  with  the  rescue  of  Singing- 
Bird.  But  if  the  new  captive  should  happen  to  be  the  Tuscarora, 
then  the  desire  for  vengeance,  on  the  part  of  the  Senecas,  might 
iSBvestaU  his  pkuis,  before  they  oonld  be  put  in  operation.    UM 


fll      FRONTIBBSMIV.  8t 

did  not  believe  that  the  Indians  intended  him  any  bodily  injnry  5 
for  although  he  knew  their  crafty  and  murderoas  natures,  he  did 
not  think  they  would  dare,  in  the  present  condition  of  the  Colo- 
nies, to  violate  a  peace,  which  would  be  likely  U,  draw  upon  them 
the  vengeance  of  the  whites.  Uneasy  at  the  conjecture  that 
Eagle's-Wing  might  be  the  new  captive,  and  pained  by  the  tight- 
ness of  the  withes  which  had  been  bound  about  his  feet  and 
hands,  he  made  a  desperate  eflfort  to  free  himself  from  them. 
While  engaged  in  this  effort,  a  shadow  darkened  the  doorway  of 
the  hut,  and  Panther  and  Snake- tongue  stood  before  him.  They 
had  evidently  detected  the  effort  of  Ichabod  j  but  no  expression 
upon  their  countenances  denoted  the  fact. 

The  two  chiefs  approached  the  bed  occupied  by  Ichabod,  and 
surveyed  their  captive  silently  for  a  few  moments ;  when  Pan- 
ther, directing  his  conversation  to  Snake-tongue,  exclaimed  : 

"  This  is  the  warrior  of  whom  we  have  heard.  lie  is  a  great 
warrior ;  he  has  killed  many  Senecas ;  his  eye  is  sharp  on  the 
war-path ;  his  rifle  is  sure.  Our  old  men  and  squaws  have  heard 
of  him  beyond  t.he  lakes.  It  is  pleasant  to  have  him  in  our 
hands." 

"  His  arm  is  strong ;  Snake-tongue  knows  it,"  said  Snake- 
tongue,  who  still  retained  a  vivid  impression  of  the  blow  which 
he  had  received  from  Ichabod  in  the  recent  encounter  at  the  cot- 
tage. "  The  young  men  of  the  Senecas  are  no  match  for  him ; 
if  the  Great  Spirit  had  given  him  a  red  skin,  we  should  have  been 
proud  of  him.  But  he  is  a  pale-face,  and  it  is  good  to  have  him 
bound  in  our  huts.  He  cannot  hurt  the  young  warriors  of  the 
Senecas  any  more." 

Ichabod  had  remained  perfectly  quiet  during  this  by-conversa- 
tion, although  a  smile  for  a  moment  lit  up  his  countenance,  at  the 
compliments  which  the  chiefs  had  bestowed  upon  his  prowess. 
When  they  had  concluded  he  exclaimed : 

"  I  give  you  all  the  thanks  for  them  compliments  that  you  de- 
sarve.  But  you  are  right  about  it.  I  have  killed  some  of  your 
warriors  in  my  day,  you  may  depend  on  it :  and  I  reckon  that 
this  is  the  first  time  that  any  of  your  breed  was  quite  so  familiar 
with  me.  But  I  want  to  know,  if  it's  considered  gentlemanly, 
among  the  Senecas,  to  tie  a  fellow's  legs  so  cussed  tight  ?" 

"  The  pale-face  is  a  great  warrior,"  said  Panther  :  "  he  is  cun- 
ning as  a  fox.  The  Senecas  are  poor  and  ignorant ;  they  do  not 
know  as  much  as  the  pale-faces ;  but  they  know  how  to  tie  a 
warrior's  feet  so  that  he  cannot  run.  They  would  be  ashamed 
if  they  did  not  know  how ;  and  my  brother  would  be  ashamed 
of  us  too." 

"  I  don't  ask  any  kind  of  marcy  of  you,  Panther,"  said  Ichabod, 
''I  know  better  than  that.  You've  got  me  here,  and  I  s'poaa 
you'll  do  pretty  much  as  you've  a  mind  to ;  and  when  you  wool 
(0  b^;in  with  your  deviltries,  just  speak,  and  I'm  ready." 

4* 


88  THS      FSONTIERSMIir. 

"  My  brother  is  not  a  squaw,"  said  Panther,  "  if  he  was  a 
squaw,  and  not  a  great  warrior,  we  should  unbind  him,  and  let 
him  wander  round  our  tents  j  but  the  Senecas  know  how  to  honor 
their  enemies,  who  are  brave.  But  the  Senecas  do  not  hate  the 
pale-faces ;  they  have  buried  the  hatchet  with  them,  and  we  will 
not  dig  it  up.  Wt  will  let  our  brother  go  back  to  the  pale-faces, 
if  he  wishes." 

"  Well,  now,  I  call  that  pretty  clever,  considerin' ;  I  shall  begin 
to  think  you  are  gentlemen,  after  all,"  answered  Ichabod,  who 
saw  the  drift  of  the  discourse.  I'm  ready  to  start  any  time  you'll 
take  these  things  off  my  hands  and  feet." 

"  My  brother  is  ready  to  go,"  said  Panther.  It  is  good.  He 
does  not  like  the  lodges  of  the  Senecas  ;  he  likes  his  own  people 
better.  It  is  not  well  for  a  pale-face  to  dwell  in  the  lodges  of  the 
red  men;  and  it  is  not  good  for  red  men  to  dwell  in  the  lodges  of 
the  pale-faces.  They  are  different :  the  Great  Spirit  has  made 
them  different — and  it  is  well.  The  pale-faces  have  killed  five  of 
our  young  men  ;  but  we  will  not  do  them  any  harm.  We  will 
not  dig  up  the  hatchet  against  them.  Our  young  men  are  not 
painted  for  the  war-path ;  they  have  not  struck  the  war  -post  of 
their  nation." 

"  For  a  civil  people,  who  havn't  dug  up  the  hatchet  and  who 
don't  intend  to,  against  the  pale-faces,  you  made  a  suspicious 
demonstration  on  the  cottage  last  night.  I  don't  know  but  that 
is  the  genuine  Seneca  way  of  being  civil  and  peaceable." 

"The  pale-faces  killed  five  of  our  young  men;  but  they  did  it 
in  defense,"  said  Panther.  "  They  did  not  want  to  do  it ;  but 
Canendesha  has  killed  two  of  our  young  men ;  he  did  it  oecause 
he  hated  them.  He  is  a  great  warrior,  too,  and  we  want  him  in 
your  place." 

"  Providing  I  go  back  to  the  cottage,"  replied  Ichabod,  "  I'll 
tell  him  what  you  want ;  but  I  won't  promise  that  he'll  be  here 
at  any  precise  time.    I  couldn't  do  that." 

"  My  brother  has  not  got  a  forked  tongue ;  be  will  do  what  ho 
says;  but  that  is  not  enough.  Four  of  my  young  men  will  go 
wfth  my  brother,  and  he  will  deliver  Canendesha  to  them." 

"  You  mean,  I  reckon^  that  I  shall  take  Eagle's- Wing  and  put 
these  thongs  round  his  limbs,  and  pass  him  over  to  you  as 
%  prisoner  ?"  asked  Ichabod,  quietly. 

"  My  brother  i$  wise.  He  knows  what  I  mean :  he  can  do  it 
and  be  free." 

Ichabod  was  about  to  give  way  to  a  burst  of  indignation  at 
this  treacherous  proposal ;  but  he  saw  that  by  so  doing  he  should 
defeat  his  own  ends.  He  had  also  learned,  to  his  great  satisfac- 
faction,  that  the  Tuscarora  had  not  been  captured.  It  was  with 
great  difficulty  that  he  could  conceal  his  joy  from  the  inquisito* 
rial  eyes  of  the  Senecas ;  but  at  length,  with  an  appearance  of 
hesitancy,  he  answered. 


fBl      rSONTIEBSMIN.  69 

I  can*t  say,  now,  whether  I  will  do  as  you  wish  or  not.  T  want 

little  time  to  think  about  it.  Speculating  in  flesh  and  blood, 
ji  that  way,  and  with  a  friend,  too,  is  a  kind  of  business  I  never 
yet  undertook ;  but  I  suppose  one  may  get  used  to  it.  A  little 
practice  will  blunt  the  feelings,  until  one  can  come  to  bartering 
oflf  friends — aye,  one's  own  flesh  and  blood,  too."  Then,  as  if 
suddenly  remembering  the  declaration  of  Snake-tongue,  that  Sing- 
ing-Bird was  reconciled  to  her  captivity,  he  added,  "  you  see,  if 
the  Tuscarora  knew  that  Singing-Bird  had  forgot  him,  and  had 
chosen  the  young  chief  of  the  Senecas  for  her  husband,  I  calculate 
he  would'nt  care  much  whether  he  was  here  or  there.  Now  if 
that's  true,  I  rather  reckon,  I'll  do  as  you  want  me  to,  though  I 
look  upon  it  as  a  rascally  mean  trick  towards  a  friend." 

"  It  is  true,  what  my  brother  has  heard,"  said  Panther:  "  Sing- 
ing-Bird will  sing  in  the  wigwam  of  Panther." 

''  Now,  I  don't  mean  any  disparagement  to  the  Senecas,  and  you 
in  particular,"  said  Ichabod  ;  *'  I  am  beginning  to  think  that  you 
may  be  gentlemen,  after  all ;  but  that  is  a  matter  I  can't  take 
any  body's  word  for.     I  want  to  know  that  it  is  true." 

"  My  brother  shall  hear  with  his  own  ears,"  said  Panther. 
"  He  shall  know  that  the  words  of  Panther  are  true ;  he  shall  see 
Singing-Bird,  and  ask  her  if  Panther  has  lied." 

This  was  just  what  Ichabod  had  desired.  If  he  had  made  the 
proposition  himself,  it  was  doubtful  whether  some  ulterior  pur- 
pose would  not  have  been  suspected  ;  but  his  seeming  willingness 
to  comply  with  the  wishes  of  Panther,  had  led  the  Seneca  to  sug- 
gest this  as  the  surest  mode  of  dispelling  his  doubts 

"  My  brother  shall  see  Singing-Bird  alone,"  said  Panther,  "  we 
have  not  got  forked  tongues,  or  we  would  not  let  him  do  so." 

The  two  Indians  departed.  Their  willingness  to  allow  this 
interview  was,  for  a  moment,  almost  suflScient  to  induce  Ichabod 
to  believe  that  Singing-Bird  had  become  faithless  to  the  Tusca- 
rora. But  he  knew  enough  of  Indian  character  to  know  that 
Singing-Bird  might  have  adopted  this  line  of  conduct  as  the  best 
mode  of  effecting  her  escape.  With  this  belief,  he  silently 
awaited  the  interview,  determined  not  to  believe  otherwise  unless 
he  received  positive  proof  from  Singing-Bird  herself.  Scarcely 
five  minutes  had  elapsed  after  the  departure  of  the  Seneca, 
before  a  shadow  again  darkened  the  door-way  of  the  hut.  and 
the  young  squaw  stood  before  him. 

Singing-Bird — for  she  it  was — was  apparently  not  more  than 
two-and-twenty  years  of  age.  She  was  of  small,  light  stature, 
yet  with  a  full  and  healthy  development  of  body.  Her  features, 
although  they  possessed  the  distinctive  Indian  cast,  were  mould- 
gd  into  a  beauty  admirable  to  behold.  Her  complexion  was  a 
softenmg  of  the  tawny-red  of  the  warriors  into  a  delicate  tint, 
w^hile  her  large,  dark  eyes  were  full  of  a  gentle  expression,  that 
Blight,  if  need  be,  be  exchanged  for  a  wild  and  passionate  firsb 


90  THK      FROKTIBRSHIV. 

Her  long,  d&rk,  glossy  hair  flowed  in  graceful  wares  down  hov 
neck,  and  were  gathei'ed  in  rich  folds  over  her  brow.  Her  cos- 
tume was  that  of  a  young  Indian  female  of  the  period,  beauti- 
fully and  tastefully  decorated  with  ornaments  of  beads  and 
flowers.  As  Ichabod  first  beheld  her,  the  prevailing  expression 
of  her  countenance  was  that  of  a  gentle  sorrow. 

Ich,abod  w^  surprised.  He  had  never  beheld  the  wife  of 
Eagle's-Wing,  and  never  before  had  h6  beheld  a  female  figure  the 
beauty  of  which  so  much  surprised  and  delighted  him.  He 
gazed  at  her  with  a  pleasure  he  could  not  conceal,  and  then, 
while  a  melancholy  smile  passed  over  her  countenance,  he  said — 

"  You  have  heard  of  me  from  Eagle's-Wing,  perhaps,  as  an 
old  friend  ?  He  and  I  have  known  each  other  as  tried  friends,  in 
times  gone  by." 

'*  I  have  heard  of  a  pale-face,"  replied  Singing-Bird,  in  a  low, 
silvery  voice,  "  who,  on  the  war-path,  saved  the  life  of  Eagle's- 
Wing.  when  he  was  in  the  hands  of  his  enemies.  I  have  heard 
it  from  Eagle's-Wing." 

"That's  a  circumstance  not  worth  mentioning;  but  Eagle's- 
Wing  and  I  are  friends.  He  knows  he  can  always  rely  on  me, 
in  any  sort  of  a  speculation.  But  I'm  in  rather  a  bad  fix  here  j 
yet  we  Can  always  find  some  way  of  doing  our  duty  by  a  friend, 
if  we  try.  But  Eagle's-Wing  is  free,  and  isn't  far  from  here — 
you  may  depend  on  that." 

Perhaps  the  slightest  trace  of  an  expression  of  joy  passed 
over  her  countenance  for  a  moment ;  but  it  was  instantly  sub- 
dued.    With  her  eyes  fixed  upon  the  ground,  she  slowly  said — 

"  I  loved  once  to  look  upon  Canendesha — but  he  has  passed 
from  my  eyes." 

"What!"  exclaimed  Ichabod  with  a  start  that  fairly  made 
the  withes  snap  that  were  fastened  upon  his  limbs. 

A  momentary  look  of  agony  clouded  the  face  of  Singing-Bird. 
She  seemed  endeavoring  to  speak,  yet  had  not  the  power  to  com- 
mand her  organs  of  speech. 

"Shall  I  tell  Eagle's-Wing  this?"  exclaimed  Ichabod,  with 
indignation.  ''Shall  I  teil  him  to  go  back  to  the  villages  of  his 
nation,  and  forget  his  squaw  ?  Or  shall  I  tell  him  to  come  and 
deliver  himself  up  to  his  enemies  ?" 

With  an  effort  that  seemed  almost  to  destroy  her,  but  which 
was  lost  upon  Ishabod,  as  he  had  given  himself  up  to  the  mastery 
of  his  indignation — she  softly  answered — 

"  I  have  said.    Let  the  pale-face  speak  my  words  to  his  friend." 

It  was  not  merely  astonishment — it  was  shame,  uncontrolable 
disgust,  towards  the  fair  being  who  stood  before  him,  that,  for  • 
moment,  ke^t  Ichabod  silent.  When  at  last  he  found  words  to 
communicate  his  thoughts^  he  exclaimed— 

"  I  wouldn't  have  believed  it,  if  all  the  Senecas  this  side  of  thff 
iofaraal  regions  had  told  me  1    Such  a  beauty  i  such  a  heart 


THE      FRONTIERSMEN.  9| 

m  abandon  the  settlements:  I'll  thank  God,  night  and  day,  that 
IVe  no  wife  I  Poor  Eagle's-Wing !  go  and  die.  No  ;  I  know 
the  heart  of  Eagle's- Wing.  He  won't  die  for  a  squaw.  He'll 
wince  a  little,  at  first :  but  he'll  have  the  scalps  off  the  heads  of 
the  whole  tribe  of  Senecas."  Then,  as  if  concentrating  all  his 
indignation  into  one  breath,  he  glanced  at  Singing-Bird  with  a 
look  of  abhorrence,  and  exclaimed — '•  Go,  you  painted  lie !"  and 
threw  himself  over  on  his  bed,  so  as  to  avert  his  gaze  from  her. 

Meanwhile,  Singing-Bird  stood  with  her  eyes  riveted  upon  the 
ground,  and  her  countenance  as  calm  and  impassable  as  chiseled 
stone.  A  look  of  agony  had  impressed  it  for  a  moment,  but 
that  had  fled.  Not  a  gesture — not  a  breath,  denoted  that  she 
felt  the  indignant  speech  of  Ichabod.  At  its  close,  however,  her 
ear  detected  a  slight  rustling  among  the  leaves,  near  the  door 
of  the  hut,  and  Panther  glided  from  among  the  boughs,  and 
crept  towards  an  adjoining  lodge. 

Scarcely  had  she  seen  the  retreat  of  the  Seneca  chief,  than  the 
whole  expression  of  her  countenance  changed — her  figure  became 
erect — a  fire  gleamed  in  her  eyes — a  look  of  intense  hatred 
clouded  her  countenance.  Then,  springing  towards  the  bed  of 
Ichabod,  she  exclaimed — 

"  It  is  a  lie.  Look  at  me,  friend  of  Eagle's-Wing.  It  is  a  lie : 
the  heart  of  Singing-Bird  is  with  her  husband.  She  thinks 
only  of  him.  Tell  Eagle's-Wing  so.  Tell  him  I  shall  soon  fiy 
from  the  Senecas." 

Ichabod  gazed  on  her  now  with  admiration.  Such  consum- 
mate acting,  though  he  thought  himself  skilled  in  Indian  ways, 
he  had  never  seen  before.  He  had  seen  warriors  die  bravely, 
and,  unmoved  in  the  hour  of  peril,  exasperate  their  enemies  by 
words  of  reproach  and  shame :  he  had  seen  the  Indian  smile  as 
the  scalping-knife  tore  from  his  brow  the  lock  of  honor;  but 
never  did  he  imagine  that  one  so  young,  so  beautiful,  so  loving, 
could  give  to  her  countenance  a  look  so  false,  with  a  heart  so 
true. 

"  God  bless  thee,  girl !"  exclaimed  he.  "  Give  me  a  woman, 
after  all,  for  stratagem.  I  don't  know  when  I  shall  see  Eagle's- 
Wing,  but  when  I  do,  I'll  tell  him  if  he  don't  snatch  you  from 
these  red  devils,  he  ought  to  be  scalped  by  Panther  himself. 
Who  would  have  believed  it  ?" 

"  Eagle's- Wing's  friend  don't  hate  Singing-Bird  now  ?" 

"  Hate  you  ?    Lord  love  you,  girl  1     Give  me  your  hand 
Pshaw !  i  haven't  got  a  hand  to  give  you :  but  after  this,  girl, 
I'll  always  believe  you,  and  will  find  some  means  to  get  you  out 
of  this  scrape.     When  are  these  Indians  going  to  leave  here  ?" 

"  Don't  know,"  said  Singing-Bird.  "  They  want  to  get  Eagle'fl- 
Wing,  first." 

"  It  will  be  a  long  while,  I  reckon,  before  that  happens.  But 
I  9Ry,"  asked  he,  just  tlunking  of  the  other  captive  who  had 


92  ''     "the      FB0NTIER8M1W. 

been  brought  in  that  morning,  "  what  other  prisoner  hare  they 
got  nere  ?" 

"  They  brought  in  a  pale-face  girl.  King  George's  man  got 
her  from  cottage.     She  stays  in  hut  with  me." 

"  Ruth  Barton,  by  all  the  devils !"  exclaimed  Ichabod.  Who 
do  you  say  captured  her  1" 

"  King  George's  man :  Guthrie,  they  call  him."^ 

Here  was  a  new  cause  of  wonderment.  Guthrie  was  believed 
by  Ichabod  to  have  been  killed  by  the  Tuscarora. 

"  But  I  see  into  it.  the  white-livered  villain.  He'll  get  his  pay 
for  this.  I  say,  Singing-Bird,  I  shall  refuse  to  go  on  that  rascal- 
ly business  for  these  Senecas.  I  suppose  they'll  be  terribly  mad 
about  it,  but  I  can't  help  it.  Now,  you  see,  you  keep  up  this 
Bham  affair  between  you  and  Panther,  and  you  can  find  some 
means  to  give  me  a  hint  of  what's  going  on :  and,  I  say,  if  you 
can,  just  bring  me  a  knife.  It  gives  a  man  a  world  of  confi- 
dence, sometimes,  to  have  a  friend  of  that  sort.  Eagle  s- Wing 
and  the  Captin  won't  be  idle,  and  we  shall  hear  something  from 
'em  before  long ;  and,  till  then 

He  was  interrupted  by  a  gesture  from  Singing  Bird,  who 
immediately  assumed  the  appearance  she  had  worn  while  Panther 
had  been  in  hearing  of  the  conversation.  At  almost  the  same 
moment,  Panther  and  Snake-tongue  entered  the  hut  j  and.  at  a 
gesture  from  the  former,  she  silently  departed. 

Ichabod  had  endeavored  to  assume  the  appearance  of  indigna- 
tion which  his  countenance  had  worn  during  the  early  part  of 
his  conversation  with  Singing-Bird,  and  with  some  degree  of 
success. 

"  My  brother  has  heard  the  Singing-Bird  of  the  Tuscaroras," 
said  Panther ;  ''  he  has  learnt  that  the  Senecas  have  not  got 
forked  tongues." 

"I  must  confess,"  answered  Ichabod,  "that  I'm  ashamed  of 
that  girl.  I  wouldn't  have  believed  it  from  anybody  else,  al- 
though I'm  beginning  to  have  great  respect  for  the  word  of  a 
Seneca,    I  wouldn't  have  believed  it,  if  she  hadn't  told  me  so." 

"  My  brother  has  heard  the  song  he  wished  to  hear,"  said 
Panther,  allowing  a  look  of  triumph  to  pass  over  his  counte- 
nance, "  It  is  pleasing  to  my  brother.  He  will  now  go  with 
my  young  men,  and  be  free." 

"  I've  no  kind  of  objection  to  being  free,  in  an  honest  sort  of 
way,"  answered  Ichabod;  "but  about  that  business  you  men- 
tioned, I've  been  thinking  that  I've  lived  pretty  nigh  fifty  yews, 
and  I  never  yet  deceived  a  friend — nor  an  enemy  either,  except 
in  a  lawful  manner — and  I  guess  1  won't  begin  now." 

"  What  does  my  brother  mean  ?"  asked  Panther,  giving  way 
to  anger.  "Does  he  mean  to  eat  his  own  words?  Does  my 
brother  mean  to  he  ?" 

^  Lie  I"  exclaimed  Ichabod.    ^^  Yon  can  use  that  word  in  per 


THE      FSONTIEBSMEK.  98 

feet  safety,  while  you  are  there  and  T  am  here :  but  you  give  m« 
a  fair  chance,  and  I'd  endeavor  to  teach  you  better  manners. 
But  the  plain  English  of  the  thing  is — 1  shan't  go  on  that  ras- 
cally errand,  any  way." 

*'  My  brother  is  a  great  warrior,"  said  Panther.     "  He  is  cun 
ning  as  a  fox.     He  knows  it  well ;  but  if  my  brother  refuses  to 
go,  we  will  try  and  see  how  brave  he  is." 

"If  that  means  tortur'  or  anything  of  that  sort,"  said  Icha- 
bod,  quietly,  "  all  I've  got  to  say  is,  bring  it  on.  I  don't  know 
whether  I  can  stand  all  of  your  villainous  inventions  or  not,  and 
1  ra'ally  don't  want  to  know ;  but  if  that  is  your  mind,  I'll 
acquiesce,  of  course,  seeing  I  can't  help  it." 

"  We  leave  our  brother  to  his  thoughts.''  said  Panther.  "  He 
is  brave,  and  will  think  if  over,  and  be  braver  by-and-bye.  We 
will  let  our  brother  know  when  we  are  ready." 

So  saying,  the  two  Indians  left  the  hut ;  and  Ichabod.  with  a 
mind  somewhat  ill  at  ease,  at  the  prospect  before  him,  endeavor- 
ed to  follow  the  advice  of  the  Senecas — although  given  by  them 
for  a  contrary  ol)ject — and  gain  strength  of  purpose  by  redee- 


94  fSI      FB0NTI1R8MBS. 


CHAPTER    XII. 

*•  No  tear  relieved  the  burden  of  her  heart ; 

8tnnned  with  the  heavy  woe,  she  felt  like  on* 
Balf- wakened  from  a  midnight  dream  of  blood." 

SorTfctT. 

We  shall  be  compelled  to  return  upon  the  course  of  ouf 
narrative,  for  the  purpose  of  giving  a  relation  of  the  manner  in 
which  Ruth  had  fallen  into  the  hands  of  the  savages.  Guthrie, 
who  was  supposed  by  Eagle's-Wing  to  have  been  slain,  was 
really  but  little  injured.  The  Tuscarora  had  followed  him  down 
the  stairway  unnoticed,  and  guided  more  by  sound  than  by  sight, 
in  the  darkness  of  the  room  below,  he  glided  after  the  Tory 
until  the  latter  had  reached  the  door.  He  heard  the  attempt  to 
remove  the  bar  which  secured  it,  when,  with  a  silent  but  rapid 
blow  of  his  tomahawk,  he  had,  as  he  supposed,  cloven  the  head 
of  Guthrie  to  the  brain ;  but  owing  to  the  darkness,  in  which 
the  form  of  the  latter  could  with  difficulty  be  distinguished,  the 
blow  fell  upon  his  left  shoulder.  The  pain  as  well  as  the 
surprise  oj  Guthrie,  had  cauBed  him  to  give  the  shriek  which 
attracted  the  attention  of  those  above,  and  which  was  followed 
by  his  fall  upon  the  floor.  As  no  further  attack  was  made  upon 
him  by  the  Tuscarora,  he  rightly  concluded  that  Eagle's-Wing 
thought  the  blow  already  given  to  have  been  fatal.  With  this 
impression  he  remained  motionless,  until  the  ill-advised  sortie  of 
the  defenders  of  the  cottage  offered  him  the  opportunity  to  escape, 
when  he  sprung  to  his  feet,  and  although  suffering  severely  from 
his  wound,  rushed  up  the  stairway  with  the  intention  of  leaping 
from  the  window — a  distance  of  ten  or  twelve  feet,  to  the  ground. 
But  as  he  reached  the  upper  floor,  he  saw  Ruth,  who  had  fallen 
upon  her  knees  in  the  act  of  pra^^er  for  the  assistance  of  Heaven 
towards  the  brave  but  few  defenders  of  the  cottage.  Instantly, 
Guthrie  planned  a  scheme  of  vengeance,  which  was  at  once 
arried  into  effect.    Advancing  rapidly  towards  Ruth  he  said : 

"  Come,  Miss  Ruth ;  the  Indians  will  take  the  cottage ;  and 
your  father  has  directed  me  to  take  charge  of  you  and  lead  you 
to  a  place  selected  by^him  and  his  companions  for  a  rendezvaut. 
There  is  no  time  for  thought :  come  instantly." 

Ruth  arose,  astonished  by  this  sudden  intelligence. 

"  My  father,"  she  exclaimed,  "  is  he  safe  ?" 

"  Yes,"  replied  Guthrie,  "  they  are  all  safe ;  but  they  have 
been  compelled  to  retreat  towards  the  forest.  Come  instantly, 
or  you  are  lost." 

Deceived  by  the  earnestness  of  Guthrie,  Ruth  immediately 
fbUowed  him  to  the  window.    In  %  moment  %  small  ladder 


THE      FRONTIERSMKir.  95 

which  had  heen  constructed  for  exit  by  the  windows,  in  any 
emergency  similar  to  the  present,  was  let  down  upon  the  ground, 
and  Ruth  descended,  followed  by  Guthrie.  Taking  her  by  the 
hand,  and  partly  leading  and  partly  carrying  her,  they  proceeded 
rapidly  towards  the  south-east  into  the  forest.  When  they  arrived 
at  the  base  of  the  hill,  near  the  shore  of  the  pond,  instead  of 
meeting  her  father  and  his  companions,  she  found  herself  in  the 
midst  of  a  small  party  of  Senecas.  She  saw  at  once  that  sh» 
was  betrayed,  and  shrieked  for  help. 

"  None  of  that,  Miss  Ruth,"  cried  Guthrie,  roughly ;  "  it  won't 
do  you  any  good.  Them  Colony  men  at  the  cottage,  have  got  as 
much  as  they  can  do,  just  now,  to  save  their  own  scalps." 

"  Wretch — villian !"  cried  Ruth,  and  she  fell  fainting  upon  the 
ground. 

By  this  time,  it  was  apparent  that  the  contest  at  the  cottage 
had  terminated ;  and  a  rough  frame-work  of  light  saplings  and 
boughs  was  constructed,  upon  which  Ruth  was  placed,  and  con- 
veyed in  the  direction  of  the  temporary  lodges  of  the  Senecas. 
Before  arriving  there,  she  had  recovered  from  her  swoon,  when 
she  realized  the"  dangerous  situation  in  which  she  was  placed. 
Arming  herself  with  the  fortitude  which  was  not  uncommon 
among  the  women  of  the  period,  she  commended  herself  to  the 
protection  of  that  Divine  Being,  upon  whom  she  was  wont  to 
rely  for  aid  and  consolation. 

When  they  reached  the  huts  of  the  Senecas,  and  the  Indians 
ascertained  who  was  their  prisoner,  their  exultation  was 
announced  in  the  shouts  of  triumph  which  Ichabod  had  heard. 
Ruth,  however,  without  suffering  any  rudeness  or  ill-usage  such 
as  might  have  been  expected,  perhaps,  in  the  present  excited  state 
of  mind  of  the  savages,  was  conveyed,  by  the  direction  of 
Panther,  to  the  lodge  occupied  by  Singing-Bird.  She  was  not 
bound  or  confined  in  any  manner,  the  savages  relying  upon  their 
watchfulness  to  prevent  her  escape  ;  and  also  upon  the  apparent 
fidelity  of  Singing-Bird. 

When  Ruth  saw  the  entire  absence  of  restraint  in  which 
Singing-Bird  lived,  and  her  apparent  friendliness  towards  the 
savages,  her  mind  recurred  to  the  imaginative  picture  she  had 
formerly  drawn  of  the  young  squaw,  separated  by  force  from  a 
husband  she  loved,  and  restrained  by  captivity,  among  enemies 
who  were  thirsting  foi  his  blood,  she  could  not  reconcile  the 
present  conduct  of  Singing-Bird  with  her  own  ideas  of  what 
should  have  been  her  conduct ;  and  she  felt  a  degree  of  disgust 
towards  the  young  Indian  beauty,  who  could  so  soon  forget  a 
husband  so  worthy  of  her  affection  as  the  Tuscarora. 

"  Can  this  be  Singing-Bird,  of  whom  I  have  heard  so  much  7*^ 
Asked  Ruth. 

"  Who  heard  it  from  ^"  inquired  Singing-Bird. 

^  I  haard  it  at  the  cottage,  of  a  Tuscarora  ehiaf  who  had 


96  THE      FBONTIEBSMVir 

lost  his  squaw  by  the  treachery  of  the  Senecas,  and  who 

now  seeking  his  life." 

"Yes,  Eagle's-Wing  kill  Seneca — and  Panther  must  have 
Eagle's- AVing's  scalp.    Bad  for  Eagle's-Wing  to  kill  Seneca." 

"  Can  it  be  possible  ?"  asked  Ruth — no,  it  cannot  be — that 
you  are  the  Singing-Bird  of  whom  I  have  heard." 

The  young  Indian  placed  her  hands  upon  her  breast,  as  strug- 
gling with  a  violent  emotion,  and  then  looked  at  Ruth  with  an 
expression  of  entreaty  which  was  not  lost  upon  her. 

'•  Hush  !"  faintly  whispered  Singing-Bird,  "  Seneca  comes." 

Ruth  saw  at  once  that  Singing-Bird  was  acting  a  part,  and 
appreciated  that  she  did  so  from  a  feeling  of  necessity  for  the  safety 
of  herself,  and  perhaps  of  her  husband.  Scarcely  had  Ruth  caught 
the  whisper,  ere  the  Indians  who  had  stood  by  the  door  of  the 
lodge  departed,  when  Singing-Bird  advanced  towards  Ruth,  and 
said — 

'•  Pale-face  girl  does  not  know  Singing-Bird.  She  loves  Eagle's- 
Wing.  Hates  Panther  ever  so  much.  Do  tell  me  'bout  Eagle's- 
Wing." 

Ruth  related  what  she  knew  of  the  Tuscarora,  and  of  the  attack 
upon  the  cottage.  Singing-Bird  listened  intently ;  and  when  Ruth 
had  concluded,  she  placed  her  arm  gently  about  her  neck,  and 
said — 

"  We  sisters  now ;  but  look  out  for  Seneca.  They  think  me 
friend ;  but  I  want  Eagle's-Wing  to  get  all  their  scalp." 

She  then  informed  Ruth  that  another  party  of  the  Senecas  had 
also  brought  in  a  prisoner,  and  from  the  description  which  she 
gave  of  the  appearance  of  the  captive,  Ruth  concluded  that  the 
unfortunate  prisoner  could  be  none  other  than  Ichabod.  She 
conjectured,  also,  that  the  Senecas  had  made  no  other  prisioners, 
and  that  her  father,  together  with  Ralph  and  the  Tuscarora,  still 
remained  in  posession  of  the  cottage.  This  fact  at  once  gave 
relief  to  her  mind  ;  and  she  regained  a  serenity  and  composure 
which  she  had  not  before  been  able  to  feel  since  her  capture. 

"What  are  these  Indians  going  to  do  with  us?"  asked  she  of 
Singing-Bird. 

"  Don't  know  what  they  do  want  with  pale-face  girl.  P'raps 
want  to  trade  for  Eagle's-Wing.  But  Panther  wants  me  for  his 
squaw — wants  me  to  go  beyond  the  lakes,  in  the  Seneca  country, 
to  live  in  his  wig\^am.    Won't  do  it,  though  j  I  kill  myself  first.'* 

"  I  never  shall  consent  to  be  exchanged  for  Eagle's-Wing," 
said  Ruth.  "  I  shall  rely  upon  some  other  means  of  deliverance." 

Singing-Bird  thanked  her  by  a  grateful  smile.  "  0, 1  rfo  want 
to  get  away,"  replied  she.  "  Oneida  and  Tuscarora  warriors 
come  pretty  soon,  I  hope.  When  they  come,  then  I  get  away  ; 
p'raps  before,  if  Eagle's-Wing  know  how.    He  great  warrior." 

"  I  have  friends,  too,  who  will  assist ;  and  I  hope  thqr  vrill 
find  meana  (o  daUyer  us,"  said  Buth. 


THV      FRONTIERSMEH  9V 

*'  Wfiat  friend  ?"  asked  Singing-Birdj  suddenly.  **  Haro  yon 
got  husband,  too  ?" 

Ruth  smiled  and  shook  her  head. 

"  Got  friend,  then,"  asked  Singing-Bird,  "  who  like  to  look  at 
yon — who  give  you  his  heart  ?" 

Ruth  blushed,  and  this  time  she  did  not  smile. 

Singing-Bird  continued,  "  If  you  got  lover,  then,  why  don't 
marry  ?" 

"  Perhaps  I  may,  sometime,"  answered  Ruth,  still  blushing ; 
*'  but  I  cannot,  you  know,  until  these  troubles  are  all  over." 

"  It's  pleasant  to  live  in  wigwam  with  husband.  When  he  gone 
on  war-path,  or  gone  hunting,  then  you  work  in  field — that  good 
way  to  live." 

"  We  pale-face  women  do  not  work  in  the  field.  We  make 
the  men  do  that." 

"  That  squaw's  business ;  men  hunt  deer,  catch  fish,  take 
scalp — that  warrior's  business.  I  don't  want  to  stay  in  wigwam 
and  do  not'ing,     Eagle's-Wing  wouldn't  like  that." 

"  You  do  not  mean  to  say  that  Eagle's-Wing  would  make  you  do 
labor  in  the  field  ?"  asked  Ruth,  in  astonishment. 

"  No — Eagle's-Wing  wouldn't  make  me  do  that ;  but  if  I 
didn't,  he  t'ink  me  lazy,  good  for  not'ing  squaw — then  he  get 
another  squaw,  p'raps.     /  shouldn't  like  that." 

Ruth  was  not  acquainted  with  this  custom  of  the  inuians ;  and 
her  astonishment  was  unfeigned.  She  could  scarcely  believe  that 
one  so  seemingly  delicate  as  Singing-Bird,  could  accustom  herself 
to  a  species  of  labor,  that  was  severe  enough  for  the  stronger 
muscles  of  the  manly  portion  of  creation.  Yet,  it  is  true,  that 
while  the  Indian  warrior  undergoes  the  fatigues  of  war,  or  of  the 
chase,  with  uncomplaining  fortitude,  when  idle  he  never  com- 
promis/is  his  dignity  by  any  servile  employment.  The  cultiva- 
tion of  the  field,  and  all  of  the  severer  domestic  duties,  are  per- 
fbrmed  by  the  squaws,  with  as  much  patience  and  fortitude  as 
the  warrior  displays  on  the  war-path. 

"  But,"  asked  Singing-Bird,  "  what  pale-face  women  do  ?  sit 
still  and  do  not'ing  ?" 

"  0,  no ;  we  have  plenty  of  employment  in  attending  to  house- 
hold matters.  We  shouldn't  think  ourselves  able  to  do  labor 
out-of-doors,  in  tilling  land." 

It  was  now  Singing-Bird's  turn  to  be  surprised  ;  and  while  she 
was  expressing  her  wonderment  at  this  want  of  love  for  their 
husbands  on  the  part  of  the  women  of  the  pale-faces,  Panther 
was  seen  approaching  the  lodge.  At  the  suggestion  of  Singing- 
Bird,  Ruth  immediately  assumed  an  appearance  of  extreme  sor- 
row, while  the  former  took  that  of  the  careless  indifierence  which 
Bhe  had  first  exhibited  to  Ruth. 

Panther  entered  the  lodge,  and  without  seeming  to  notice  tbs 
ireaence  of  Ruth,  approached  Singing-Bird  and  said : 


98  THE      FRONTIERSMEN. 

"The  pale-face  prisoner  does  not  believe  that  Singing-Bini 
lores  to  live  in  the  lodges  of  the  Senecas.  Will  my  sister  go  and 
tell  him  whether  she  does  or  not  ?" 

Singing-Bird  obeyed  without  reply ;  and  followed  by  Panther, 
she  proceeded  to  the  interview  we  have  already  described  be- 
tween her  and  Ichabod. 

Ruth  had  been  left  alone  but  for  a  few  moments,  when  she 
heard  a  slow  but  heavy  step  approaching  the  lodge.  With  a 
look  of  uneasiness,  she  gazed  in  the  direction  of  the  sound,  and 
beheld  Guthrie  about  entering  the  door-way. 

"  Good  morning,  Miss,"  said  he  with  a  rude  and  familiar  voice, 
that  grated  harshly  on  her  ears.  "  I  thought  I'd  just  see  how 
you  get  along.     How  do  you  like  living  with  the  Senecas  ?" 

"  Guthrie,"  answered  Ruth,  "  in  what  manner  has  my  father  or 
have  I,  injured  you,  that  you  should  commit  the  act  you  have, 
to-day  ?" 

The  villain  chuckled  for  a  moment.  "  That's  neither  here  nor 
there,  Miss.  There  never  was  any  great  love  atween  us,  any 
way ;  and,  you  see,  a  wound  like  this,  ain't  apt  to  increase  it," 
pointing  to  his  shoulder,  which  had  been  bandaged.  It's  enough 
for  me  to  know  that  Squire  Barton  has  given  shelter  up  at  th« 
cottage  to  them  as  has  injured  me ;  and  no  man  ever  offends  Ben 
Guthrie  without  getting  his  pay  for't. 

"  There  has  been  no  time,  Guthrie,"  said  Ruth  with  a  shudder, 
"  since  we  have  lived  in  this  valley,  but  you  have  been  welcomed 
at  the  cottage  as  a  friend." 

"  Yes,  yes ;  I  know  what  kind  of  a  welcome  I've  generally 
had  : — such  as  you  Colony  folks  give  a  Tory,  as  you  call  me — a 
scornful  eye — a  curling  lip — and  a  hand  that  is  never  offered  in 
friendship.  But  I'll  let  these  interlopers  into  this  territory  know 
that  if  King  George's  men  have  all  died  in  the  settlements,  there 
are  some  of  'em  alive  round  here.  But  thafs  neither  here  noi 
there.  I've  done  you  a  kindness,  after  all ;  for  that  cottage  will 
yet  be  taken — burnt  down,  p'raps — and  then  you'd  better  be 
here  than  there." 

"  Guthrie^  you  have  been  guilty  of  a  great  wrong,  in  placing  me 
in  the  hands  of  these  Senecas ;  and  you  may  yet  live  to  suffer 
for  it.  I  never  knew  a  wicked  act,  that  was  not  followed  by  its 
punishment." 

"Not  so  fast.  Miss  Ruth— not  so  fast,"  said  Guthrie,  "I  want 
you  to  understand  that  you're  my  prisoner ;  and  that  these 
Senecas  only  hold  you  for  me ;  and  that  they  are  answerable  to 
me  for  your  safety." 

"If  you  have  the  power,  0,  take  me  back  to  my  father  1 
Guthrie,"  said  she  imploringly,  "  and  this  act  of  yours  to-day 
Bhall  be  forgotten  and  forgiven ;  and  you  will  find  in  me  a  friend 
ever  more.  You  know  the  agony  my  father  must  suffer*  Of 
take  pity  en  his  gray  hairs." 


^.   M.lk 


THI      FBONTIIRSMIir.  99 

Gathrie  gave  a  peculiar  chuckle.    "  Can't  do  that,  any  way," 

ttid  he,  "  or  not  if You  see.  Miss,  the  matter's  here.     Now 

your  father  and  I  can  be  friends.  There's  one  way  we  can  make 
this  matter  up.  Let  him  give  up  that  Tuscarora  to  these  Indians. 
and  take  me  for  a  son-in-law,  and  the  thing's  done  at  once." 

Ruth,  for  a  moment,  was  astounded  at  this  infamous  proposal. 
She  looked  at  him,  as  if  doubting  the  evidence  of  her  senses  *, 
but  disdained  to  re])ly. 

"  You  see.  Miss,"  continued  Guthrie,  "  it  wouldn't  be  so  bad 
an  affair,  after  all.  I  ain't  much  of  a  woman's  man,  it's  true ; 
but  I've  got  a  snug  piece  of  land  down  here ;  and  then,  in  these 
times,  it  isn't  a  bad  thing  to  have  a  friend  among  these  wild 
savages  ;  and,  you  see,  I  could  protect  all  of  you." 

Ruth  answered  indignantly,  "I  did  not  thiak,  Guthrie,  you 
could  do  me  a  worse  wrong,  than  you  committed  in  treacher- 
ously making  me  a  prisoner  ;  but  you  have  committed  a  worse 
one.  Leave  this  hut,  or  I  will  appeal  to  these  savages  to  pro- 
tect me ;  not  one  of  them  but  has  more  courtesy,  and  a  better 
heart  than  you." 

Guthrie  looked  fiercely  angry  at  this  reply ;  but  walked 
deliberately  towards  Ruth,  and  seated  himself  upon  a  bench  near 
her.  "  We'll  see  about  that,  Miss.  I  ain't  accustomed  to  child's 
play.  Now  I've  made  up  my  mind  that  I  want  you  for  a  wife, 
and  my  wife  you  shall  be,  any  way.  Now,  there  ain't  no  use  in 
screaming,  or  them  sort  of  things  ;  but  you  might  just  as  well 
make  up  your  mind  to  it,  first  as  last." 

Ruth,  shuddening  with  horror,  rushed  from  the  hut :  Guthrie 
sprang  after  her,  and  caught  her  by  the  arm.  "  That  won't  do. 
Miss,  any  way.  Them  tantrums  will  answer  in  the  settlements ; 
but  out  here  in  the  woods,  we  do  things  on  squares.  You  can 
say,  whether  you  will  or  you  won't,  and  make  and  end  of  it, 
just  to  show  your  freedom  in  the  matter ;  but  whichever  way 
you  fix  it,  it  don't  make  any  difference  to  me ;  the  thing  has 
got  to  be  done." 

During  this  speech  of  Guthrie's,  Ruth  had  been  dragged  back 
into  the  hut.  She  shrieked  with  fear  and  disgust,  and  cried 
aloud  for  help.  Guthrie  rudely  endeavored  to  place  his  hand 
over  her  mouth,  when  Singing-Bird  came  running  into  the  lodge, 
followed  by  two  or  three  Indians.  Guthrie,  ashamed,  of  his 
violence,  retreated  towards  the  door. 

"  I've  had  my  say.  Miss,  and  you  can  make  up  your  mind  to  it, 
and  save  the  folks  at  the  cottage ;  or  you  can  go  into  these 
tantrums,  and  let  the  other  thing  happen,  just  as  you've  a  mind." 

With  this  threat,  he  slowly  departed,  followed  by  the  savages, 
while  Ruth  threw  herself  into  the  arms  of  Singing-Bird,  weeping 
bitterly  at  this  new  addition  to  her  misery. 


1^  M>        ,w^ 


IOC  THl      FRONTIERSMIV. 


CHAPTER    XIII. 

**  There  was  ettob  lawing  and  vexation  in  the  towns,  one  dailie  nding  an^ 
troubling  another,  that  the  veteran  was  more  troubled  with  lawing  withii 
the  towne,  than  hewas  in  peril  at  large  with  the  eneniie." 

HoLiNSHED — Conquest  or  Ibklaitd. 

As  WE  have  said,  Ralph  and  the  Tuscarora,  after  the  discov- 
ery of  the  capture  of  Ruth,  anxiously  sought  the  means  of  re- 
leasing her  and  Singing-Bird,  as  well  as  Ichabod.  from  the  hands 
of  the  Senecas.  They  at  length  hit  upon  a  plan,  which  they 
proposed  to  put  in  execution  on  the  following  night.  They 
deemed  it  unsafe  to  attempt  it  in  the  daytime,  as  they  would  be 
much  more  likely  to  be  discovered  by  the  Indians,  than  when 
under  the  shelter  of  darkness. 

Barton  had  recovered  somewhat  from  his  first  paroxysm  of 
grief,  and  was  at  length  able  to  take  part  in  the  preparations 
which  were  making.  But  it  was  insisted  upon  by  both  Ralph 
and  Eagle's-Wing,  that  he  and  the  negro  should  remain  at  the 
cottage,  as  well  for  the  purpose  of  defence  should  another  attack 
be  made  during  their  absence,  as  for  that  of  having  an  asylum  in 
readiness,  should  they  succeed  in  their  enterprise.  The  cottage 
contained  five  or  six  rifles,  in  addition  to  those  which  had  already 
been  in  use,  and  was  well  furnished  with  ammunition ;  and  it 
was  believed  that,  should  another  attack  be  made,  Barton  and 
the  negro  might  defend  it,  until  assistance  could  be  rendered  by 
the  return  of  Ralph  and  the  Tuscarora. 

Some  time  had  elapsed  in  these  preparations,  and  it  was 
already  noon,  before  everything  was  completed  in  readiness  for 
the  enterprise.  A  few  hours  more  were  to  elapse  before  it  would 
be  proper  for  them  to  set  forth.  They  had  no  fear  that  any  im- 
mediate injury  could  be  contemplated  by  the  Senecas  to  Ichabod 
or  Ruth.  They  supposed  that  the  Indians  would  not  resort  to 
any  means  of  vengeance,  until  they  had  completely  failed  in  their 
attempt  to  get  possession  of  the  Tuscarora.  Therefore,  it  was 
with  no  fear,  although  with  much  anxiety,  that  they  waited  for 
the  hour  fixed  upon  by  them  for  their  hazardous  enterprise. 

It  was  just  about  noon  that  Sambo,  who  had  been  into  the 
cattle-yard  to  look  after  the  cattle,  came  running  into  the  cot- 
tage, and  announced  the  approach  of  two  white  strangers  from 
the  northward,  who  were  coming  on  foot  in  the  direction  of  the 
cottage.  This  intelligence  was  received  with  pleasure;  for  at 
any  time,  in  the  midst  of  the  forest,  when  visitors  are  few  and 
ffftre,  there  is  no  little  excitement  on  the  arrival  of  strangers, 


TAX      FB0NTIEBSMK9.  101 

from  whom  welcome  information  of  friends  or  of  occurrences  at 
the  settlement  may  be  obtained ;  but  at  this  time,  when  sur- 
rounded by  so  many  dangers,  a  white  face  was  almost  certain  to 
be  that  of  a  friend.  ,    \  .  ^  ■,.  ,     .  ,  ,  ■    • 

The  announcement  had  scarcely  beeji  ii^ade,  'when  the  ^ti an- 
gers approached  the  door,  and  wej;o  ^invited  cordially  by  Barton 
to  enter.  ;       ^''>^  >      '.  j  ^  ';'•,' ';  ,>  ,'  ;   ;, 

The  first  of  the  strangers  who  ifttVActod'  thgir'aitciitim)",  Vra^.a- ; 
man  of  slight  stature,  not  more  than  five  feet  six  inches  in 
height,  with  a  sly,  cunning  expression  of  countenance.  His  flesh 
was  shrivelled  and  thin,  and  his  complexion  was  of  a  yellowish 
white,  resembling  somewhat  the  color  of  parchment.  He  ap- 
peared to  be  about  thirty-five  years  of  age.  He  had  a  fussy, 
uneasy  air,  never  seeming  to  rest,  but  constantly  twitching  and 
yerking  about — a  peculiarity  that  passes  with  most  men  as  the 
result  of  great  mental  activity,  but  which  is  more  often  the  evi- 
dence of  a  disarranged,  unmethodized  mind. 

The  other  personage  was  of  a  large  and  bulky  frame,  with  a 
dull,  stolid  expression  of  countenance ;  besides,  his  face  wore 
unmistalcable  marks  of  his  being  addicted  to  the  use  of  ardent 
Ipirits — blossoms  indicating  that  fact  being  scattered  in  consid- 
erable profusion  over  it.  He  carried  in  his  hand  a  rifle,  which, 
either  from  want  of  use  or  because  just  at  this  precise  time  he 
was  suffering  from  too  familiar  an  acquaintance  with  his  favor- 
ite pocket  companion,  he  seemed  to  have  no  appropriate  place 
for,  and  was  unable  to  get  into  any  convenient  position. 

The  strangers  entered  the  cottage,  and  the  first  individual  we 
have  described,  with  a  nervous,  twitchy  manner,  said,  with  an 
attempt  at  a  graceful  salutation — 

"  Good  day,  gentlemen.  You  do  not  know  me,  perhaps ;  my 
name  is  Bagsley — attomey-at-law — reside  in  Johnstown,  tho 
shire  of  Try  on  County ;  and  I  am  now  out  on  a  tour  of  profes- 
sional business,  gentlemen.  This  person,  who  accompanies  me, 
is  Mr.  Nathan  Rogers,  one  of  a  tributary  profession.  He  is  a 
bailiff,  gentleman—deputy  sheriff  of  the  county  of  Tryon — a 
worthy,  time-honored  profession ;  but  one,  which,  unfortunately, 
in  this  county,  seems  not  to  be  properly  appreciated,  and  is  not 
in  great  demand." 

"  Ugh !"  exclaimed  the  Tuscarora,  and  turned  leisurely  towards 
the  window. 

"  You  are  welcome,  gentlemen,"  said  Barton.  "  but  I  am  sorry 
chat  I  cannot  offer  you  a  better  hospitality ;  but  such  as  I  am 
able  to  give,  you  are  welcome  to." 

The  strangers  seated  themselves  with  an  easy  familiarity. 

"  Quite  a  beautiful  country  through  here,"  said  Bagsley.  I 
un  always  delighted  when  I  can  escape  from  the  drudgery  of 
the  profession,  and  hold  communion  with  the  beauties  of  nacure. 
But  I  must  confess,  you  have  rather  too  much  of  nature  around 


^m.f 


lOS  TBI      FBONTIERSMEN. 

here,  gentlemen.  Your  roads  are  not  remarkably  well  worn  or 
broken ;  and  we  have  had  quite  a  fatiguing  journey  j  haye  we 
not,  Rogers  ?" 

EogGTS  assented,  with  a  stirt  of  affirmative  grunt. 

"  Bebng  in,  these  'paints  T''  asked  Bagsley,  turning  towards 
Ralph. 

."  I  dTo  oqly. on  a; visit <h«]^e,"  was  the.  answer.  "  I  am  quite  as 
inuo^  a  sti'aiiger  as  ydurself 

"  Will  you  allow  me  to  ask,"  continued  Bagsley,  addressing 
Barton,  "  how  long  you  have  resided  in  this  section  ?" 

"  But  two  years,"  Barton  replied. 
I  declare !  you  must  have  been  active  to  have  accomplished 
go  much.     But,  I  believe,"  said   Bagsley,  with  a  professional 
erravity,  '•  you  cannot  have  the  fee  of  the  property  here." 

"I  am  a  sort  of  tenant  at  sufferance  of  the  Oneidas;  but 
should  the  State  purchase  these  lands — as  I  believe  they  will, 
soon — I  may  hope  to  obtain  a  title  to  what  I  already  occupy." 

"  Perhaps — perhaps,"  answered  Bagsley.  "  But  you  must 
be  aware,  as  a  gentleman  of  experience,  that,  by  an  act  of  the 
Honorable,  the  Legislature  of  the  State  of  New  York,  passed 
July  25,  1782,  this  section  is  particularly  and  definitely  reserved 
to  tne  Indians  of  the  Six  Nations.  Now,  it  may  be  questiona- 
ble— T  never  speak  with  certainty  out  of  my  office — but  it  may 
be  questionable — whether  the  State  will  ever  purchase  these 
lands.  Should  they  not — you  see  the  point — you  lose,  as  a  mat- 
ter of  course,  all  of  your  improvements,  and  may  be  ejected  at 
any  time." 

"  Of  that  fact  I  am  well  aware,"  answered  Barton,  "  and  I  run 
my  risk,  of  course.  But  will  you  allow  me  to  ask,  sir — if  my 
question  is  not  too  impertinent — what  business  gentlemen  of 
your  profession  can  find  in  these  forests  ?  " 

"  I  might,  sir,  according  to  the  doctrine  of  the  common  law — 
the  leges  non  scripta — of  England,  which  is  yet  the  law  of  this 
State,  so  far  as  it  has  n»t  been  modified  by  statute,  and  according 
to  well  settled  rules  of  the  courts,  decline  answering  that  ques- 
tion, as  it  relates  to  business  intrusted  to  one  in  a  professional 
capacity,  as  well  as  upon  other  grounds  j  but,  sir,  to  a  gentle- 
man of  your  apparent  prudence  and  experience,  an^d  particularly 
sc  long  as  I  may  wish  to  obtain  important  information  from  you, 
I  cannot  refuse  so  reB,sonable  a  request." 

"  I  did  not  ask  the  question,"  replied  Barton,  "  from  any  desire 
10  intrude  upon  your  privacy,  but  only  as  a  matter  of  surprise 
that  a  legal  gentleman  could  find  any  business  in  this  remote 
wilderness  that  would  compensate  him  for  the  trouble  of  com- 
ing here." 

"  It  may  surprise  you,  sir — it  would  be  likely  to  occasion  sur- 
prise, sir — and  I  noticed  that  our  red  friend,  here,  expressed  his 
astonishment  on  learning  our  profession ;  but  the  truth  is.  w« 


THE     FRONTIERSMEN.  103 

are  in  pursuit  of  a  notorious  debtor,  with  a  capias  ad  respon- 
dendum. I  will  descri'De  the  person,  and  you  may  be  able  to 
give  me  useful  information  as  to  his  wliereabouts.  He  is  said 
to  be  about  forty-five  years  of  age,  with  grizzly  hair,  a  tall, 
thin  form,  stoops  much  in  walking,  ihin,  dried-up  face,  but 
intelligt-'Ut  countenance,  and  is  said  to  converse  a  great  deal 
upon  projects  of  speculation  in  property." 

"  Ichabod,  for  all  the  world ! "  exclaimed  Ralph. 

"  Mr.  Jenkins  ! "  exclaimed  Barton. 

"  Ugh  ! "  broke  in  the  Tuscarora. 

"  I  am  happy,  gentlemen,  that  I  have  been  able  to  give  a  des- 
cription so  brief,  but  comprehensive,  that  you  are  enabled  at 
once  to  name  the  person  of  whom  we  are  in  pursuit.  You  see, 
Rogers,  that  we  are  on  the  right  track  after  all." 

"  Yes,"  grunted  that  functionary.  "  We've  got  the  track,  but 
we  haven't  got  the  game." 

"  0,  that  will  follow,  as  a  matter  of  course,"  chuckled  the 
attorney.  "This  Ichabod  Jenkins  probably  resides  in  these 
parts  ?» 

"  1  believe  he  is  now  in  the  neighborhood,"  answered  Ralph, 
with  a  gravity  that  he  could  scarcely  maintain. 

"  It  is  important  that  he  should  be  arrested  on  this  capias,^* 
jsaid  Bagsley.  "  The  debt  is  for  a  large  sum,  to  wit :  the  sum 
of  £25,  7s.  6d.,  which  he  owes  and  unjustly  detains  from  one 
Samuel  Parsons,  plaintiff,  and  he  has  not  paid  the  same,  or  any 
part  thereof,  although  often  requested  so  to  do,  wherefore  the  said 
Samuel  Parsons  claims  damages,  &c.  And  any  information  of  a 
precise  nature,  that  can  be  given,  will  be  freely  reciprocated  on 
occasion.  Perhaps  we  can  get  along  without  troubling  Mr.  Jen- 
kins very  much.  You  seem  to  be  his  friends  ;  and  as  this  is  a 
bailable  process,  you  can  give  bail  for  him." 

"  I  doubt,"  answered  Ralph,  "  whether  it  will  be  at  all  neces- 
sary. I  am  sorry  to  inform  you,  that  Mr.  Jenkins  is  now  a 
prisoner  among  a  party  of  Senecas  in  this  immediate  neighbor- 
hood." 

"  What !"  exclaimed  Bagsley,  have  they  also  lodged  a  capias 
against  him !" 

"  I  am  more  fearful  that  they  have  taken  him  in  execution,* 
said  Ralph,  with  an  attempt  at  a  pun,  which  we  are  happy  to 
say,  he  at  one  rejected.     "  The  truth  is,  that  this  cottage  has  been 
attacked  by  a  party  of  hostile  Senecas,  and  not  only  Jenkins,  but 
Miss  Barton  have  been  made  prisoners." 

Bagsley  put  on  a  look  of  incredulity.  "  You  do  not  mean  to 
say,  that  in  these  times  of  peace,  war  has  been  levied  in  this  ter- 
ritory against  the  peace  of  our  Lord  the rather,  against  the 

State  of  New  York,  e,v  gratia  Dei,  free  and  independent  t" 

"  Fiddlesticks  !"  ejaculated  Rogers. 

^  It  is  doubtless  a  mere  assemblage  of  persons  onlawfoUy  lO 


104  THE      FBONTIERSMKlf. 

gether,  for  the  purpose  of  committing  riot  or  some  other  disor- 
derly act ;  and  probably  a  simple  declaration  that  gentlemen  of 
our  profession  are  in  the  neighborhood,  will  be  sufficient  to  quell 
the  disturbance.  Did  I  understand  you  to  say,  that  this  gentle- 
man's daughter  has  been  taken  prisoner  ?"  pointing  to  Barton. 

"  So  I  informed  you,  sir,"  answered  Ralph. 

"  I  am  happy  to  offer  you  my  services,"  addressing  Barton : 
*'  you  can  undoubtedly  sustain  an  action  of  trespass  on  the  case, 
for  the  injury  in  detaining  your  daughter  from  your  service. 
This  action,  sir — and  you  will  notice  the  beauty  and  appropriate- 
ness of  the  law — is  brought  technically  for  the  loss  of  service — 
but  you  recover  smart  money,  by  way  of  damages  for  harrowed 
feelings,  &c.  Miss  Barton  can  also  have  her  action  for  assault 
and  battery.  Then  there's  Jenkins,  why  here's  a  way  pro- 
vided, through  the  benignity  and  ubiquity  of  the  law — for  at  once 
satisfying  this  debt.  He  also  has  his  action  for  damages.  Really, 
Rogers,  we  have  done  just  the  thing  by  coming  here." 

"  Make  out  the  papers,"  said  Rogers,  "  and  we'll  serve  'em  to- 
night." 

"It  is  a  most  singular  thing,"  said  Bagsley,  addressing  the 
company  indiscriminately,  "  the  antipathy  entertained  generally, 
against  gentlemen  of  our  profession.  Without  us,  I  may  venture 
to  say,  the  world  would  be  helpless — without  us,  what  power 
would  sustain  the  weak  ?  Without  us,  there  would  be  an  entire 
ignorance  of  that  beautiful  system  which  has  been  adorned  by  a 
Holt,  a  Hale  and  a  Mansfield.  But  once  let  us  enter  an  igno- 
rant village  of  this  description,  and  intelligence  upon  this  sul^ect 
spreads  with  wonderful  rapidity — men  rush  forward  to  try  by 
experience  the  fruits  of  that  system  which  has  been  adorned  by 
the  labors  of  genius,  and  perfected  by  the  wisdom  of  ages.  In- 
deed, gentlemen,  we  may  be  called  the  vanguard  of  civilization." 

This  eloquent  tribute  to  the  legal  profession,  seemed  to  pro- 
voke a  variety  of  opinion.  Barton  and  Ralph  merely  smiled. 
The  Tuscarora  ejaculated  "  ugh  !"  with  considerable  more  force 
than  usual;  Sambo  seemed  to  be  perfectly  enchanted — while 
Rogers,  crossing  his  legs,  and  ejecting  a  quantity  of  tobacco-juice 
upon  the  floor,  exclaimed,  "  rigbl"— Bagsley — right — and  yon 
might  have  added,  what  would  have  become  of  the  bailiffs,  if 
there  were  no  lawyers  ?" 

''  Can  you  give  me  the  direction  towards  the  riotous  assen*- 
blage  you  have  mentioned  ?"     inquired  Bagsley. 

"  You  certainly  do  not  think  of  going  thither  ?"  exclaimed 
Ralph,  in  surprise. 

"  Of  course,  sir — of  course  ;  answered  Bagsley ;  "  were  there 
any  certainty  that  Mr.  Jenkins  would  immediately  return,  we 
would  postpone  the  matter  for  the  day ;  but  upon  your  intima- 
tion that  he  is  detained  nolens  volenSj  I  think  we  shall  be  obliged 
to  go  in  pursuit  of  him." 


THE      FRONTIERSMKlf.  105 

•  Too  will  encounter  a  great  danger,"  said  Ralph.  "  These 
Indians  are  highly  excited  and  angry,  and  they  may  not  discrimi- 
nate between  you  and  us  at  the  cottage." 

"  No  fear  of  that,  sir,"  replied  Bagsley  with  an  air  of  dignity 
and  complacency,  "  I  think  they  cannot  but  apprehend  the  dis- 
tinction.    What  do  you  tnink  of  that,  Rogers." 

"  Right  again,"  said  the  functionary.  "I  don't  think  anybody 
could  mistake  us.  There's  something  in  the  eye  and  manner  of 
ft  bailiff  that  make  a  rogue  crest-fallen,  at  onee.     I'm  ready." 

**I  beg  you,  gentlemen,  as  you  value  your'lives,"  said  Barton, 
"  to  give  up  this  foolish  (as  I  must  term  it)  errand — for  the  pres- 
ent, at  least.     You  will  certainly  regret  it  when  too  late." 

"  We  know  our  duty."  said  Bagsley,  with  dignity,  "  and  we 
shall  make  an  overt  of  Mr.  Jenkins,  whether  he  be  defended  by 
his  friends  on  the  one  hand,  or  the  Indians  on  the  other." 

"  I  am  sorry  that  yon  cannot  take  good  advice,"  said  Ralph ; 
*•'  but  we,  at  least,  shall  be  conscious  that  we  have  warned  you 
of  your  danger." 

''Well,  gentlemen,"  said  Rogers,  rising  and  shouldering  his 
rifle,  '•  I've  only  got  this  to  say — I  never  saw  a  rascal,  yet,  that 
dare  look  Nathan  Rogers  boldly  in  the  face ;  and  if  these  Injins 
have  got  more  nerve  than  other  rascals,  I  want  to  know  it.  If 
there't  anybody  in  my  bailiwick  that  will  refuse  to  acknowledge 
my  authority,  I  want  to  know  it.  and  I  will  know  it — that's  all." 

"  I  am  very  much  obliged  to  you,  gentlemen,  for  your  advice 
and  good  wishes  for  our  welfare."  said  Bagsley,  rising;  ''but 
when  duty  calls,  we  must  obey.  If  you  will  point  us  the  direc- 
tion, we  will  be  doubly  obliged." 

Their  direction  was  pointed  out  by  Ralph,  who  again  made  an 
ineffectual  effort  to  induce  them  to  desist  from  their  dangerous 
expedition. 

"  Good  day,  gentlemen,"  said  Bagsley,  as  he  was  about  leaving. 
"  Our  intention  is  to  return  here  this  afternoon,  and  should  you 
have  no  objection,  we  will  admit  Mr.  Jenkins  to  bail  on  your 
becoming  bound  in  double  the  sum  I  mentioned  to  you.  Good 
day,  gentlemen."  And  the  attorney  departed,  followed  by  the 
bailiff. 

The  first  impulse  of  Ralph  was  to  laugh  at  this  little  interlude 
in  the  tragedy  that  was  being  enacted  around  them :  but  tht 
matter  was  too  serious,  after  all,  to  be  treated  so  lightly.    . 

"  They  are  gone  to  a  long  imprisonment — perhaps  to  death,^ 
said  Barton. 

"  No  get  Jenkins,  this  time,"  said  the  Tuscarora.  "  Lose  their 
scalps — that  all  they  make." 

The  hour  now  approached  for  the  departure  of  Ralph  and 
Eagle's- Wing.  The  sun  was  just  sinking  behind  the  westero 
hills,  when,  taking  their  rifles,  they  left  the  cottage,  proceeding 
is  a  Bdutherly  direction. 


106  THK      7S0NTIIB8M  JE» 


CHAPTER    XIT. 

"  An  host  of  furies, 
Could  not  have  baited  me  more  torturingly, 
More  rudely,  or  more  most  unnaturally." 

Beaumoivt  akd  Flktchbb. 

TcHABOD,  whom  we  have  so  long  neglected,  after  the  departure 
of  Panther  and  Snake-tongue,  remained  in  as  easy  a  position  as 
the  nature  of  his  confinement  would  permit,  and  gave  himself 
up  to  reflection  upon  his  unpleasant  situation.  It  was  evident 
that  it  was  the  intention  of  the  Senecas  to  subject  him  to  torture; 
but  whether  they  would  proceed  to  the  last  extremity,  he  could 
not  conjecture.  But  the  possibility  that  such  might  be  their 
intention,  could  not  but  present  itself  to  his  mind.  He  had 
often  been  in  positions  where  death  was  impending ;  but  those 
were  times  when,  amidst  the  excitement  of  conflict,*  the  mind 
does  not  dwell  with  any  fixed  tenacity  upon  that  event ;  or,  if  it 
does,  contemplates  it  under  the  colors  of  excitement  with  which 
it  is  clothed.  But  now,  bound  hand  and  foot,  he  was  about  to 
be  led  unresistingly,  and  in  cool  blood,  to  that  fate,  about  which 
all  men  think,  and  but  few  appreciate,  until  the  mortal  hour. 

Ichabod  had  a  sort  of  creed,  upon  which  he  had  heretofore 
relied  with  confidence.  Now,  however,  for  the  first  time,  he 
began  to  doubt  whether  there  was  not  a  possibility  of  error  in  it, 
and  whether  he  had  sufficiently  examined  points  of  faith  which 
he  had  heretofore  rejected.  But  whichever  way  his  mind  wan- 
dered, he  ever  recurred,  in  his  ignorance,  to  the  simple  articles 
of  faith  in  which  he  had  so  long  entertained  confidence.  Such 
were  the  nature  of  his  thoughts,  when  Deersfoot  entered  the 
hut,  to  announce  to  him  that  the  Senecas  and  their  chief  were 
waiting  for  him. 

Now,  Ichabod  had,  until  this  moment,  been  wholly  engaged  in 
the  train  of  thought  which  we  have  mentioned ;  but  when  it  was 
broken  by  this  announcement,  a  new  idea  seemed  suddenly  pre- 
sented to  his  mind. 

''  Yes,  I  know  what  that  means,  Deersfoot.  It  means  that 
you  are  going  to  tofiur'  me,  according  to  Indian  law.  I  never 
did  ra'ally  think  that  I  should  live  to  be  game  for  Senecas ;  but 
you  do  your  duty  according  to  your  natur',  and  I'll  do  mine, 
according  to  such  light  as  I've  got.  But,  see  here,  Deersfoot. 
now,  understand,  that  I  don't  ask  for  marcy,  or  anything  of  that 
sort ;  but  if  this  business  can  be  compromised  to  the  benefit  of 
«ut  ftU  then  it's  for  jour  interest  as  well  as  mine  to  settle  it 


THE      FRONTIERSMEN  101 

Now,  Fve  got  a  proposition  to  make  to  Panther  and  the  rest  of 
you  ;  and  if  you've  a  mind  to  hear  it,  well  and  good ;  and  if  yoq 
bavn't,  why,  then  you  needn't." 

Deersfoot  listened,  under  the  impression  that  Ichabod  had,  at 
last,  repented  of  his  resolution,  and  that  he  was  willing  to  accept 
freedom  upon  the  terms  which  had  been  proposed  to  him.  After 
Ichabod  had  concluded,  he  replied : 

"  My  brother  is  wise.  I  will  say  to  the  chief  what  my  brother 
wishes.     It  is  good  for  us  to  be  at  peace." 

With  this  he  departed.  But  a  few  moments  elapsed,  before 
he  returned  with  the  information  that  the  Senecas  and  their 
<;hief  would  meet  their  prisoner  in  council.  The  withes  that 
were  bound  about  the  ankles  of  Ichabod,  were  unfastened,  yet 
it  was  some  time  before  he  was  able  to  stand  without  assistance. 
When  he  had  suflBciently  recovered  the  use  of  his  feet,  he  was 
conducted  by  Deersfoot  to  a  lodge  on  the  opposite  side  of  the 
circle,  where  he  found  Panther  and  Snakes-tongue,  together  with 
the  larger  portion  of  the  Senecas,  who  were  seated  in  a  circle 
about  the  lodge,  to  listen  to  his  proposal. 

Ichabod  was  placed  in  the  centre  of  the  circle.  Conforming 
to  Indian  custom,  he  preserved  a  perfect  composure  and  silence, 
until,  at  length,  he  was  addressed  by  Panther : 

"  My  brother,"  said  he,  "  had  a  cloud  before  his  eyes,  when  he 
refused  to  listen  to  my  counsel.  The  cloud  has  now  passed 
away ;  he  now  sees  clear ;  he  sees  that  it  will  be  wise  to  do  as 
we  wish.  We  have  come  together  to  listen:  my  brother  can 
speak." 

''I'm  afraid  we  are  laboring  under  some  mistake  here,"  replied 
Ichabod :  "  as  for  that  business  you  proposed  to  me,  there's  no 
tise  in  talking  about  that.  It's  all  well  enough  for  a  Seneca  to 
propose  it ;  but  it  would  rather  go  agin  my  natur'  to  accept  it.  I 
came  here  to  speak  to  you  about  a  matter  of  a  great  deal  more 
importance  than  that." 

There  was  a  loud  murmur  of  dissatisfaction  among  the  Senecas ; 
and  many  of  them  sprang  to  their  feet  with  the  intention  of  tak- 
ing vengeance,  at  once,  for  this  seemingly  public  insult.  Panther, 
however,  immediately  restored  silence. 

"  My  brother,"  said  he.  "  is  a  great  warrior  ;  he  is  cunning  as 
a  fox ;  but  he  is  surrounded  by  warriors  as  brave  and  cunning 
as  himself.     We  will  hear  what  he  has  got  to  say." 

"  Now,  I  want  to  say  to  j'ou,  Panther,  and  to  the  rest  of  you," 
continued  Ichabod,  unmoved,  "  what  I  said  to  Deersfoot  before  I 
was  brought  in  here,  that  if  you  want  to  put  me  to  tortur',  and 
think  that's  the  best  use  you  can  make  of  me,  I've  nothing  to 
say  agin  it,  for  that's  good  Injin  law ;  but  if  you  ra'ally  want  to 
make  the  most  out  of  me  that  you  can,  then  you'll  listen  to  hat 
I've  got  to  say." 

He  paused  for  a  few  moments ;  but  as  the  Indians  remained 


108  TH8      FRONTIERSMEN. 

silent,  he  took  it  as  a  manifestation  of  their  dispositiom  to  give 
him  their  attention. 

"  You  see,"  continued  he,  "  that  ever  since  the  white  men  cams 
over  the  ocean  to  this  country,  they've  been  increasing  and  grow- 
ing more  powerful,  and  you've  been  growing  weaker.  The  peo- 
ple who  came  over,  in  the  first  place,  established  colonies — they 
Jit  the  French — they  fit  the  Injins,  and  finally  they  had  a  fight 
with  England  for  independence ;  and  notwithstanding  all  their 
Cornwallis's  and  Burgoyne's,  and  the  'Injins  to  boot,  they  got 
what  they  font  for.  Now,  you  can  see,  that  there's  no  use  in 
your  keeping  up  these  old-fashioned  customs  of  tomahawking  and 
scalping,  and  living  in  the  woods,  and  acting  like  Injins,  more 
than  like  white  people.  If  you  do,  it  won't  be  long  before  there 
won't  be  a  red  man  left  in  the  country.  It's  rather  hard  to  tell 
you  these  things  to  your  faces  ;  but  they're  facts,  as  you  can  see 
with  half  an  eye.  Now  there  is  a  way,  in  which  you  can  not 
only  keep  your  own,  but  get  the  start  of  the  white  people,  in  this 
territory,  to  boot.  It  may  be  going  agin  flesh  and  blood  and 
color  to  tell  such  a  secret  to  you,  but  still,  I'm  willing  to  do  it." 

His  auditory,  at  the  first  glance,  would  have  seemed  to  be 
wholly  unmoved  at  this  long  introduction ;  but  on  a  closer  view, 
it  would  have  been  seen,  that  while  many  of  the  Senecas  shot 
forth  wilder  and  fiercer  glances  from  behind  passionless  faces, 
others  seemed  moved  by  a  feeling  of  curiosity  to  hear  the  end  of 
this  strange  exordium.     Panther,  after  a  short  silence,  replied : 

"  My  brother  is  brave  ;  he  is  not  afraid  to  speak  in  the  mids»t 
of  his  enemies.  It  is  true  that  the  Injins  are  weak  and  the  pale- 
faces are  strong.  We  are  dropping  like  the  leaves ;  and  the 
hunter  comes  home  to  his  wigwam  at  night,  tired  and  hungry, 
and  brings  but  little  game.  The  pale-faces  are  growing  stronger. 
I  have  thought  of  it  much.  There  is  a  way  to  make  them  grow 
weaker  ;  but  that  is  not  the  way  which  appears  to  the  eyes  of 
my  brother.  His  way,  I  am  afraid,  is  not  a  good  way.  He  would 
have  us  forget  that  we  are  Injins.  T%at  we  cannot  do.  The 
Great  Spirit  made  us  red  men  ;  he  made  us  Injins.  He  placed 
us  in  the  forests ;  he  gave  us  tomahawks  and  knives  with  which 
to  fight  our  enemies ;  and  bows  and  arrows  to  shoot  the  bear 
and  deer.  We  cannot  be  anything  but  Injins.  Our  fathers  and 
grandfathers  were  Injins ;  and  the  little  pappoose  is  an  Injin. 
As  soon  as  he  is  grown,  he  takes  to  the  path  of  his  nation.  I 
may  speak  foolish  ;  but  this  is  what  I  know.  If  the  white  men 
destroy  us,  we  will  die  like  Injins ;  if  they  drive  us  from  our 
hunting-grounds,  we  will  not  go  without  scalps.  We  will  do  aa 
the  Great  Spirit  tells  us." 

There  was  a  loud  expression  of  satisfaction  at  this  speech  of 
Panther ;  and  he  sat  down  under  a  deluge  of  applause,  that  a 
little  alarmed  Snake-tongue  for  his  laurels.  He  waited  with 
impatience  untU  lohabod  should  give  him  an  oportunity  to  assert 


TSe      FRONTIERSMEN.  109 

hii  superiority  in  the  way  of  speech-making.    Silence  hAving 
been  again  restored,  Ichabod  continued : 

"  To  the  threats  you  made,  Panther,  in  your  speech,  I  shall  not 
reply.  My  business,  just  now,  is  peaceable ;  and  I'm  addressing 
you  for  your  profit ;  and  I  shall  not  be  diverted  by  angry  insinu- 
ations. I've  said  that  the  Injins  are  growing  weaker,  and  the 
white  men  are  growing  stronger.  Now  I  want  to  give  you  a  lesson, 
in  the  first  place,  in  political  economy.  A  nation  never  become 
great  and  prosperous,  that  relied  wholly  on  fighting.  There  is  no 
surer  and  better  way  for  that,  than  for  a  nation  to  be  industrious, 
and  keep  a  sharp  eye  out  for  the  chances.  It  may  be,  that  you 
can't  understand  that  idea,  precisely ;  for  I  never  knew  an  Injin 
that  cmdd  understand  how  anything  could  be  made  by  honest 
labor :  but  I'll  try  and  make  the  thing  plain  to  you.  Now,  you 
see,  as  these  Colonies  are  free  and  independent,  this  country  that 
has  been  growing  so  fast,  is  going  to  grow  a  great  deal  faster. 
You'll  see,  in  a  few  years,  at  most,  that  a  valley  like  this  will  be 
occupied  by  white  men,  and  villages  will  start  up,  and  water- 
powers  will  be  selected  on  all  such  streams  as  this.  Now,  why 
can't  you  get  the  start  of  the  white  men  ?  I've  been  talking  with 
Squire  Barton  about  setting  up  a  factory  down  here  ;  and  having 
all  this  land  about  here  laid  out  into  building  lots.  Now,  you 
see,  if  you'll  just  look  at  the  thing  in  a  reasonable  point  of  view, 
you'll  see  the  advantages  of  going  into  this  business  with  a  jump. 
I'm  given  you  a  hint  of  the  thing.  Panther,  and  you  might  make 
a  sly  bargain  with  the  Oneidas,  and  buy  up  a  large  quantity  of 
these  lots.  They'll  be  valuable,  some  day,  sartain.  That's  one 
way  in  which  you  could  make  money  out  of  it.  Then  there's 
another  way  in  which  it  would  be  a  decided  advantage  to  all 
your  nation,  male  and  female,  old  and  young,  under  the  present 
order  of  things.  A  man  with  half  an  eye  can  see  that  there's  a 
a  great  lack  of  clothing  among  you ;  and  some  of  you  would'nt 
hardly  answer  to  be  presented  into  fashionable  company.  You 
bavn't  but  mighty  little  of  it ;  and  what  you  do  wear,  is  of  a 
kind  of  heathenish,  Injin  sort.  Now,  you  see,  at  a  small  profit, 
we  could  supply  you  with  cloth,  so  that  you  could  wear  panta- 
loons, jackets  and  coats,  and  look  like  gentlemen  ;  and  then  ali 
you'd  have  to  do,  would  be  to  behave  yourselves,  to  be  a  respect- 
able sort  of  people.  Now,  if  you  can't  see  the  advantages  of  this 
speculation,  all  that  I've  got  to  say  is,  that  I  pity  you  ;  and  you 
may  work  your  tortur'  on  me  just  as  soon  as  you  please.  I've 
the  satisfaction  of  knowing  that  I've  done  my  duty  by  you  like 
a  Christian." 

The  Senecas  seemed  completely  astounded  by  this  long  speech, 
and  its  conclusion.  The  most  of  them  looked  at  each  other  with 
a  vacant  stare,  as  though  they  could  not  comprehend  its  meaning ; 
while  others  regarded  it  as  a  public  insult,  and  intended  as  such  \ 
which,  while  it  exasperated  their  feelings,  gave  them  a  much 


110  THE      FRONTIERSMEir. 

greater  regard  for  the  bravery  of  their  prisoner.  At  length  Snak*' 
tongue  slowly  arose,  and  glancing  with  a  mien  of  dignity  upon  th© 
assembly,  proceeded  to  reply : 

"  My  brother  has  spoken,"  said  he ;  "  he  speaks  with  the  tongue 
of  a  pale-face,  and  we  poor  Injins  cannot  understand.  But  we 
nave  heard  enough  ;  we  can  guess  what  our  brother  means.  He 
means  to  put  up  a  house  on  the  river  and  drive  away  the  fish. 
He  means  to  cut  down  the  trees,  and  make  them  into  houses,  and 
drive  away  the  deer.  He  wants  us  to  wear  clothes  like  the  pale- 
faces. It  is  a  strange  speech.  My  brother  does  not  smile ;  he 
looks  as  if  he  talked  from  his  heart.  If  he  means  us  well,  then 
we  thank  him,  although  we  cannot  see  it  as  he  does.  We  do  not 
want  the  land  of  the  Oneidas.  The  Oneidas  are  squaws ;  they 
staid  in  their  wigwams  when  their  brothers  went  on  the  war- 
path. We  do  not  want  the  land  of  the  squaws  ;  let  them  keep 
it ;  we  will  not  steal  it  or  buy  it.  But  my  brother  wants  us  to 
wear  the  clothes  of  the  pale-faces.  It  is  strange  that  my  brother 
should  speak  such  a  thing.  How  would  an  Injin  look  in  the 
pantaloons  and  coat  of  a  pale-face  ?  His  brethren  could  not 
know  him ;  they  would  look  him  in  the  face  and  laugh.  The 
little  pappooses  would  laugh  at  him.  It  cannot  be  ;  my  brother 
does  not  know  the  Senecas  ;  they  live  after  the  traditions  of  their 
fathers — and  their  fathers  never  wore  the  clothes  of  the  pale- 
faces. The  Great  Spirit  gave  them  bows  and  arrows,  and  told 
them  to  shoot  bears  and  deer,  and  make  clothes  from  their  skins. 
That  is  what  we  have  done  ;  that  is  what  we  mean  to  do.  We 
have  bought  blankets  from  the  pale-faces :  some  of  our  wise  men 
have  said  that  it  was  wrong  to  do  so — that  our  fathers  did  not 
wear  blankets  of  wool,  and  that  we  ought  not  to  do  it.  I  have 
thought  so  myself.  But  to  wear  pantaloons,  jacket  and  coat  \ 
My  brother  might  as  well  say  that  the  Senecas  should  learn  to 
read  in  books,  and  hoe  corn  and  potatoes  in  the  fields.  We  will 
not  talk  about  it ;  my  brother  does  not  know  the  Senecas.  We 
are  Injins,  and  we  will  live  like  Injins." 

"  My  brother  has  spoken  ;  we  have  heard  him,  and  we  do  not 
libe  his  words.  He  is  a  brave  warrior  ;  we  know  it ;  but  we  are 
going  to  try  and  see  how  brave  he  is.  Our  young  men  will 
bind  him  to  a  tree,  and  will  throw  their  tomahawks  to  see  how 
near  they  can  come  to  his  head  and  not  hit  it.  We  will  then  try 
something  else.  We  like  to  know  a  brave  warrior.  It  does  us 
good  to  see  a  brave  warrior  laugh  at  his  enemies ;  and  my 
brother  must  be  glad  to  know  that  we  are  going  to  treat  him 
like  a  brave.     We  shall  hurt  him  all  we  can.     We  do  not  wear 

Eantaloons,  jackets  and  coats;  if  we  did,  we  should  not  know 
ow  to  honor  him :  we   should   be   like  the  pale-faces.     My 
brother  must  be  glad  that  we  do  not  dress  like  the  pale-£aces. 
Our  young  men  are  ready." 
Tius  speech  was  received  with  "  rounds  of  applause  *''  in  othot 


THE      PRO  NTIERSMEK.  Ill 

words,  "it  brought  down  the  house;"  and  Snake-tongue  sat 
down  with  a  much  greater  reputation  for  oratory  than  he  pos- 
sessed when  he  arose.  When  the  assembly  once  more  became 
silent,  and  as  three  or  four  of  the  Senecas  advanced  towards 
ichabod  for  the  purpose  of  conducting  hira  to  the  place  selected 
for  the  torture,  he  said  with  a  look  of  contempt : 

"  I  might  have  known  better  than  to  cast  pearls  afore  swine. 
They  are  nothing  but  venomous,  thick-skulled  Senecas ;  and  they 
may  go  without  clothes  all  their  life-times,  before  I'll  ever  give 
'em  a  piece  of  decent  advice  agin." 

Ichabod  was  now  led  a  short  distance  from  the  lodges,  in  the 
direction  of  the  river,  to  the  border  of  the  cleared  land.  He  was 
there  fastened  to  a  tree,  with  thongs  around  his  feet  and  waist. 
The  upper  part  of  his  body  was  left  free,  that  he  might  display 
his  fear  by  attempting  to  dodge  the  hatchets  as  they  were  thrown 
at  him.  It  was  now  about  four  o'clock  in  the  afternoon  ;  and 
the  bright  autumn  sun  shone  directly  in  his  face,  so  that  it  was 
with  extreme  difficulty,  after  a  little  while,  that  he  could  even 
raise  his  eyes  sufficiently  to  observe  his  enemies.  Yet  he  did  so ; 
for  he  knew  that  any  shrinking  in  that  respect,  would  be  deemed 
a  mark  of  cowardice  on  his  part. 

The  Indians  had  now  gathered  in  front  of  him,  at  the  distance 
of  fifteen  or  twenty  feet,  and  were  preparing  for  the  commence- 
ment of  the  ceremony.  Resting  against  a  stump,  at  a  short  dis- 
tance on  one  side,  was  Guthrie,  who  was  surveying  the  prisoner 
with  a  look  of  malicious  pleasure,  which  he  did  not  attempt  to 
conceal. 

Deersfoot  was  the  first  who  advanced  from  the  crowd  of  Sene- 
cas with  his  tomahawk  in  his  hand.  As  he  stepped  forward,  he 
said  to  Ichabod : 

"  I  shall  now  throw  my  hatchet.  I  shall  come  as  close  as  I 
can.  I  shall  try  not  to  hit  my  brother.  If  I  do,  he  will  be 
ashamed  of  me." 

He  threw  his  tomahawk  with  a  force  that  drove  the  blade 
into  the  tree  within  an  inch  of  Ichabod's  head,  almost  to  the 
handle.  Ichabod,  during  the  whole  process,  surveyed  Deersfoot 
with  a  smile.     As  the  hatchet  struck  the  tree,  he  exclaimed : 

"  Well  done,  Deersfoot.  That's  almost  as  good  as  a  bullet 
from  a  rifle  in  3^  practised  hand,  could  have  done  it.  You've  got 
an  expert  hand,  any  way,  for  that  kind  of  we'pon." 

A  murmyr  of  admiration  broke  from  the  Indians  at  this  speci- 
men of  Ichabod's  coolness.  Another  Seneca  stepped  forward,  and 
had  just  raised  his  hatchet  in  the  act  to  throw,  when  a  loud  yell 
in  the  opposite  direction  attracted  the  attention  of  the  Senecas. 
In  a  moment,  two  of  their  number,  who  had  been  stationed  as 
lookouts  in  that  direction,  were  seen  advancing  towards  the 
crowd,  accompanied  by  two  whites.  The  reader  will  at  once 
recognize  in  these  strangers,  the  attorney  and  bis  worthy  oom- 

6* 


119  TKE      FRONTIERSHESr. 

panion,  the  bailiff.  The  latter,  however,  had  been  disarmed ;  and 
although  they  were  not  bound,  their  faces  showed  signs  of  indig- 
nation at  what  they,  no  doubt,  supposed  to  be  uncivil  treatment. 
As  they  approached  the  crowd  of  Indians,  Bagsley  cried  out, 

"  Will  any  body  be  civil  enough  to  show  me  the  ringleader  of 
this  disorderly  assembly  ?" 

Panther  stepped  forward.  "If  the, pale-faces  wish  to  see  the 
chief  of  the  Senecas,  he  is  here." 

"  I  am  happy  to  make  your  acquaintance,  sir,"  said  Bagsley, 
"  I  have  the  honor  to  be  a  member  of  the  legal  profession — an 
attorney -at-law,  sir,  and  this  gentleman  who  accompanies  mc 
is  a  deputy  sheriff,  sir — one  who,  at  this  moment,  bears  in  hia 
own  person,  all  the  dignity  and  authority  of  sheriff  of  the  countj 
of  Tryon,  in  whose  bailiwick  you  now  are." 

"  Ugh  ! "  ejaculated  Panther ;  and  the  emphatic  exclamation 
was  answered  by  the  whole  crowd  of  Senecas. 

"  Our  business  here,  sir,  is  to  arrest  one  Ichabod  Jenkins,  upoa 
a  capias  ad  respondendum^  at  the  suit  of  Samuel  Parsons,  for 
£25,  7s.  &d.  I  have  been  given  to  understand  that  he  is  in  your 
custody,  or  that  you  know  his  whereabouts." 

Panther  made  a  gesture  towards  the  tree  where  Ichabod  wai 
confined.  Bagsley,  whose  view  in  that  direction  had  been  inter- 
rupted by  the  body  of  Indians  who  stood  between  him  and  the 
tree,  now  discovered  the  unfortunate  debtor. 

"I  am  much  obliged  to  you,  gfentlemen,"  said  he,  "for  having 
detained  him  until  our  arrival.  I  presume  it  was  done  as  a  mat- 
ter of  accommodation  to  us,  as  you  probably  had  heard  of  our 
coming.  Although  you  have  made  the  arrest  without  color  of 
law,  and  ex  colore  officii,  and  also  without  process,  yet  I  will 
undertake  to  defend  you,  should  he  be  malicious  enough  to  bring 
his  suit  for  assault  and  battery  and  false  imprisonment.  And, 
further,  as  you  have  behaved  so  properly  in  this  matter,  I  shall 
feel  disposed  to  compromise  amicably  with  you  a  cause  of  action 
for  the  same  offence,  in  which  I  have  been  retained  by  Mr, 
Barton.     Mr.  Rogers,  you  will  do  your  duty." 

That  worthy  was  about  moving  towards  Ichabod,  when  his 
course  was  at  once  arrested.  The  Indians,  evidently,  did  not 
understand  the  value  of  the  proceeding,  except  that  they  were 
in  danger  of  losing  their  victim  if  this  moTement  was  not  pre- 
vented. At  a  gesture'Trom  Panther,  the  intruders  were  surrounded. 

"  The  pale-face  is  our  prisoner,"  said  he.  "  We  do  not  under- 
stand what  you  wish.  Our  young  men  are  trying  to  see  how 
brave  he  is,  and  we  cannot  let  him  go." 

"  You  don't  mean  to  say,"  exclaimed  Rogers,  "  that  you  are 
going  to  prevent  this  arrest !  I'd  like  to  see  you  do  that !  Stand 
back  there,"  shouted  he,  waving  his  arm  towards  the  Senecas  in 
his  front  But  this  gesture  bad  only  the  ef^t  of  narrowing  thft 
oircle  within  which  hi  stood. 


THE      rRONTIERSMEW.  113 

*  Gentlemen"  said  Bagsley,  "you  are  probably  entirely  unao- 
«juainted  with  that  beautifnl  system  of  jurisprudence  which  has 
%een  embellished  by  the  writings  of  Coke,  and  adorned  by  the 
lives  of  Hale,  Holt  and  Mansfield.  You  arc  probably,  also,  un- 
acquainted W'ith  a  statute  recently  enacted  by  the  Honorable,  the 
Legislature  of  the  State,  of  New  York.  You  cannot  be  aware 
that,  by  interfering  with  our  proceedings,  which  are  perfectly 
regular — I  give  you  my  word  and  honor,  as  an  attorney — you 
are  subjecting  yourselves  to  fine  and  imprisonment."' 

"  We  know  no  law,  except  Ingin  law,"  said  Panther,  ''  and  we 
are  trying  to  do  our  duty,  as  we  understand  it.  We  do  not  know 
pale-face  law,  and  we  do  not  want  to  know  it." 

"  I  must  confess,"  answered  Bagsley,  "  that  I  am  not  very  well 
acquainted  with  the  Indian  system  of  jurisprudence.  It.  is,  I 
presume,  an  unwritten  system — leges  non  scriptce — and,  as  such, 
I  have  great  respect  for  it;  it  is  undoubtedly  an  admirable  sys- 
tem ;  but  it  is  not  the  system  to  which  I  allude.  You  are,  gen- 
tlemen, in  the  county  of  Tryon,  under  the  jurisdiction  of  the 
State  of  New  York,  and  amenable  to  its  laws.  I  really  hope, 
gentlemen,  that  you  perceive  the  point  in  the  case,  and  will 
retire,  and  leave  us  to  the  discharge  of  our  duty.  It  will  be 
extremely  unpleasant  for  us  to  be  called  upon  to  exercise  the 
authority  with  which  we  are  clothed,  and  I  really  hope  their  will 
be  no  occasion  for  it." 

And  he  and  Rogers  again  attempted  to  move  forward;  but 
the  Senecas  pressed  still  closer  ;  and  they  now  found  themselves 
completely  hemmed  in,  and  unable  to  move  in  either  direction. 
Ichabod,  who  had  seen  and  understood  the  whole  proceeding 
now  exclaimed — 

''  If  I've  got  any  friend  among  you  Senecas,  here,  I  hope  you'll 
finish  this  business  as  soon  as  practicable.  A  blow  of  a  toma- 
hawk will  be  thankfully  received  ;  or  if  you've  got  up  this  mat- 
ter to  try  a  new  system  of  tortur'  on  me,  I'll  acknowledge  myself 
a  squaw  at  once,  if  that'll  be  any  pleasure  to  you.  I  can't  stand 
out  agin  this  kind  of  horrors,  any  way." 

Rogers,  who  now  found  he  would  not  be  sufiered  to  proceed 
in  the  making  of  the  arrest,  by  the  actual  touching  of  the  person 
of  Ichabod,  cried  out — 

"  Ichabod  Jenkins,  I  arrest  you  by  virtue  of "  but  his 

voice  was  drowned  in  the  yells  of  the  Senecas ;  and  the  two  in- 
truders were  immediately  seized  and  bound. 

"  Gentlemen,"  said  Bagsley,  "bound  or  unbound,  I  will  do 
my  duty  towards  you,  at  least.  I  shall  certify  to  the  court, 
according  to  the  statute,  in  such  case  made  and  provided,  the 
names  of  the  resisters,  aiders,  consenters,  commanders  and 
favorers,  who  have  interfered  with  this  arrest,  and  by  a  writ 
judicial,  your  bodies  will  be  attached  to  appear  in  the  same 
oourt" 


114  THE      FRONTIE.'tSMEN. 

The  voice  of  the  attorney  was  di'owned  in  the  yells  of  th© 
now  angry  Senecas;  and  he,  together  with  the  bailiff,  were  at 
once  led  ta  one  of  the  lodges,  where  they  were  left,  bound  hand 
and  foot. 

Ichabod  laughed  with  great  glee  over  the  discomfiture  of  this 
new  enemy,  whom  he  looked  upon  as  moj-e  formidable  than  the 
other. 

"  I  thank  you,  red-skins,  for  this  act  of  friendship  ;  its  ra'ally 
kind  in  you  ;  and  I  shan't  have  nigh  so  bad  an  opinion  of  your 
nation,  hereafter,  as  I  have  had.  You  O.o  hate  a  lawyer ;  and 
there  we  agree.  It's  a  pity  that  we  can't  be  friends,  under  the 
circumstances ;  but  I  reckon  that's  impossible.  So,  proceed  to 
business  again,  and  get  through  with  this  part  of  your  tortur' 
as  fast  as  possible." 

Order  havmg  been  again  restored,  the  Indian  who  had  been 
interrupted  by  the  arrival  of  Bagsley  and  his  corapailion,  again 
stepped  forward. 

"  My  brother,"  said  he,  addressing  Ichabod,  "  is  brave  when 
he  faces  an  Tryin ;  but  he  does  not  like  the  men  with  long,  forked 
tongues.  We  do  not  like  them  either.  We  think  too  much  of 
our  brother  to  give  him  up.  He  is  a  great  warrior ;  and  we 
want  to  do  him  honor  according  to  Injin  law.  I  may  hit  my 
brother,  but  I  shall  try  not  to." 

He  threw  his  tomahawk  as  he  spoke,  and  the  blade  grazed 
Ichabod's  head  so  closely  that  it  severed  a  lock  of  hair  from  his 
brows.  This  was  considered  a  great  exploit  j  and  the  Senecas 
testified  their  admiration  by  loud  yells. 

One  after  one,  the  tomahawks  of  the  Senecas  were  thrown, 
with  divers  success.  Those  who  did  not  possess  full  confidence 
in  their  ability  to  perform  the  ceremony  with  credit  to  themselves, 
threw  more  at  random  ;  and  many  of  the  weapons  did  not  even  hit 
the  tree.  The  perfect  composure  with  which  Ichabod  endured 
this  species  of  torture,  which,  to  one  at  all  fearful  or  timid,  would 
be  exquisitely  painful,  excited  the  admiration  of  the  Indians  to 
the  highest  degree.  At  last.  Panther,  who  had  stood  calmly  by, 
watching  the  ceremony,  approached  Ichabod,  and  said — 

"  It  is  now  my  turn  to  do  honor  to  the  pale-face.  I  must  say 
that  he  is  brave.  We  are  glad  that  he  is  so  brave.  I  shall  now 
throw  my  hatchet,  and  i  hope  I  shall  not  hurt  my  brother  very 
much.  I  expect  to  hurt  him  a  little.  Should  I  hurt  him  very  bad 
it  will  be  a  mistake,  and  I  shall  be  very  sorry ;  for  we  mean  to 
try  something  else.  We  mean  to  know  how  brave  our  brother 
is. 

He  threw  his  tomahawk  with  fearful  rapidity  and  seeming 
carelessness.  It  passed  the  side  of  Ichabod's  head,  opposite  that 
from  which  the  hair  had  been  partially  shorn ;  but  it  grazed  so 
closely  that  the  hair  was  shorn  to  the  skin,  almost  as  smoothly 
as  it  could  have  been  done  with  a  razor.    It  m  ast  have  b«eii 


THE       FRONTIERSUEK.  115 

exceedingly  painful  j  but  the  smile  which  rested  upon  the  face  of 
Ichabod,  as  the  hatchet  left  the  hand  of  Panther,  remained,  as 
the  Senecas,  with  admiration  divided  between  the  victim  and  their 
chief,  crowded  around  Ichabod  to  examine  the  effects  of  the 
blow. 

"Well  done!  "Well  done!"  exclaimed  Tchabod.  "I  doubt 
whether  I  could  beat  that  with  my  rifle.  I  must  say  that  you 
are  about  as  expert  a  set  of  fellows  with  them  kind  of  we'pons 
as  I-  ever  come  across." 

Panther  now  approached  Ichabod,  and  said,  "  we  have  tried 
our  brother  as  well  as  we  could  with  our  tomahawks.  He  is 
very  brave ;  and  it  does  us  good  to  do  him  honor.  If  we  had 
our  squaws  here  to  scold  at  him,  or  our  papooses  to  shoot  arrows 
at  him.  we  might  please  him  better ;  but  we  have  not,  and  we 
please  him  as  well  as  we  can.  To-morrow  we  will  try  and  do 
better.  But  to-night,  we  will  leave  him  here  tied  to  the  tree ;  but 
he  shall  have  an  Indian  by  him  to  keep  away  the  wolves.  We 
expect,  in  the  morning,  our  brother  will  be  weaker,  and  he  will 
not  then  be  so  brave.  It  is  not  natural  that  he  should  be.  We 
will  then  tell  him  what  we  mean  to  do.  But  let  not  my  brother 
be  troubled ;  it  shall  be  something  that  will  honor  him  much." 

This  was  a  species  of  torture  which  Tchabod  had  not  expected. 
He  had  been  bound  to  the  tree  in  such  a  manner  that  he  was 
entirely  sustained  by  the  thongs  which  confined  him,  and  his 
position  was  becoming,  momentarily,  more  painful.  It  must  be 
confessed,  that  his  spirit  quailed  at  the  idea  of  remaining  so 
long  a  time  in  this  painful  situation ;  but  he  knew  of  only  one 
way  by  which  he  could  be  relieved — and  that  was,  by  the  be- 
trayal of  his  friend.  This  he  would  not  do ;  and  he  could  only 
hope  that  he  might  find  some  means  so  to  provoke  his  guard  that 
in  his  anger  the  latter  might,  by  some  hasty  blow,  dispatch  him. 
It  was  with  much  impatience,  then,  that  he  waited  for  the 
approach  of  darkness — until  which  time  he  would  probably  be 
left  alone. 

He  closed  his  eyes,  into  which  the  sun  had*  shone  until  the 
brilliant  glare  had  nearly  deprived  him  of  the  power  of  vision, 
and  endeavored  to  draw  strength  and  fortitude  from  within. 
But  a  short  time  elapsed,  however,  before  he  heard  a  step,  as 
of  some  one  approaching  him  from  behind.  It  was  Guthrie, 
who  had  separated  himself  from  the  Indians,  and  who  now  came 
up  immediately  in  front  of  him,  with  an  ironical  smile  upon  his 
countenance.  Ichabod  surveyed  him  with  a  look  of  calmnesaf 
and  composure. 

'•  I  suppose,"  said  he,  "  that  you've  come  here  for  the  purpose 
of  having  your  chance  at  me.  Now,  all  I've  got  to  say  to  you, 
is,  that  I've  a  sort  of  respect  for  them  red  devils,  for  they  do 
according  to  their  natur'  and  color:  but  as  for  you,  you're  « 
white-livered  traitor  and  Tory ;  and  if  anybody  knows  any  oth« 


116  THl      FRCNTIERSMKK. 

words  in  the  English  language  that  have  got  a  more  contemptibl* 
meaning,  they  know  more  than  I  do — that's  all :"  and  Ichabod 
closed  his  eyes  again,  as  with  the  effort  to  shut  out  of  his  view- 
so  disgusting  a  sight. 

"  Pluck  to  the  last !"  exclaimed  Guthrie.  "  I  must  say,  that 
you've  got  more  nerve  than  I  reckoned  on  ;  but  I  rather  expect 
that  you'll  give  in  before  to-morrow's  over.  Do  you  want  to 
know  what's  coming  next  ?"  asked  he,  with  a  sneer. 

"  Well,  stranger,  I  don't  suppose  I  should  know  any  more 
about  it  after  you  have  told  me,  than  I  do  now,"  answered  Icha- 
bod ;  •'  for  I've  set  you  down  for  an  infarnal  liar.  I  ain't  at  all 
particular  as  to  what  you  say;  but  this  I  do  know,  if  them 
Senecas — who  are  are  gentlemen  born,  compared  to  what  you 
are — would  give  me  that  rifle  of  mine  again,  and  set  me  loose  for 
&  few  moments,  I'd  agree,  that  after  I'd  given  you  a  proper  sort 
of  chastising,  I'd  come  back  here  again  and  stand  all  they  might 
choose  to  do  to  me.  It  rather  provokes  one  with  Natur'  and 
Providence,  to  see  such  an  infarnal  villain  as  you  are,  live  and 
breathe." 

Guthrie  chuckled,  in  his  peculiar  manner.  "  I've  waited 
many  a  day  to  get  a  chance  at  you.  You  didn't  know  me,  when 
I  saw  you  up  at  the  cottage  yonder ;  but  I  knowed  you.  I've 
got  a  scar  over  here,"  pointing  towards  his  back,  "  that  will 
remember  you  as  long  as  it  burns.  You  give  it  to  me  in  that 
skrimmage  we  had  down  here,  in  '79  ;  and  I  thought  I'd  just  let 
you  know  that  you  may  thank  me  for  what  you're  getting  now. 
As  for  that  fighting  you  propose,  I  don't  think  that  it's  any 
object,  for  you're  receiving,  now,  pretty  much  what  you  de- 
sarve."  Then,  approaching  close  to  Ichabod,  and  laying  his 
hand  upon  the  spot  shaven  by  the  tomahawk  of  Panther,  he 
continued — "  That  was  a  pretty  close  shave,  any  way.  I  was 
rather  afeard  he  would  make  a  bad  job  of  it,  and  kill  you.  I 
knowed  him  do  that  once :"  and  the  villain  laughed. 

Ichabod  groaned  in  his  helplessness  and  anger.  The  agony 
of  that  moment  far  exceeded  any  physical  torture  that  the  whole 
nation  of  Senecas  could  have  inflicted  upon  him.  He  wept  in  his 
misery,  and  a  sob  that  seemed  to  rend  his  frame,  almost  depriv- 
ed him  of  consciousness  for  a  moment.  The  fearful  spasm  that 
convulsed  his  limbs,^did  what  no  ordinary  exercise  of  strength 
could  have  done, — the  thongs  that  bound  his  hands  snapped  lik« 
threads;  and  in  a  moment,  with  a  convulsive  rapidity  against 
which  Guthrie  could  not  guard,  he  seized  the  Tory  by  the  throat 
— he  shook  him  like  a  leaf,  until  the  villain  fell,  breathless  and 
struggling,  to  the  ground.  At  the  same  moment,  overpowered 
by  this  spasmodic  exertion  of  strength,  Ichabod  fell,  iaintin|^ 
Buspended  by  the  withes  which  bot  nd  his  waist. 


ffll      FBONTIERSMI V.  lit 


CHAPTER    XV. 

Bob. — '*  He  is  fled — he  is  fled,  and  dares  not  sit  it  oui. 
Bir. — What !  has  he  made  an  escape  7  which  way  7     Follow,  neighbor 
Haggise."  Johnson. 

When  Ichabod  recovered  from  his  swoon,  he  found  himself  in 
the  presence  of  three  Senecas.  who  had  been  attracted  by  the 
struggle  between  him  and  Guthrie.  It  was  their  presence  that 
saved  him  from  immediate  death  ;  for  as  Guthrie  arose  panting 
and  struggling  for  breath,  his  first  impulse  was  to  present  his 
ritle  at  the  motionless  form  of  Ichabod :  but  it  was  instantly 
pushed  aside  by  one  of  the  Senecas.  who  had  reached  the  spot 
before  his  companions,  and  the  charge  passed  behind  the  tree  to 
which  Ichabod  was  confined.  When  the  latter  regained  his  con- 
sciousness, Guthrie  was  nowhere  to  be  seen.  The  hands  of  Icha- 
bod were  again  secured,  and  a  thong  was  now  passed  around  his 
shoulders,  so  that  he  was  bound  in  an  upright  and  a  much  easier 
position,  to  the  tree. 

The  night  was  rapidly  approaching,  and  by  the  time  Ichabod 
had  been  completely  secured,  it  was  almost  impossible  to  discover 
surrounding  objects  in  the  darkness.  A  fire  was  kindled  near 
the  centre  of  the  space  around  which  the  lodges  had  been  erected, 
and  it  was  consequently  much  closer  to  the  lodge  occupied  by 
Ruth  and  Singing-Bird,  than  either  of  the  others.  An  Indian  had 
taken  his  position,  as  guard,  within  a  few  feet  of  Ichabod,  and 
between  him  and  the  fire ;  and  this  Indian,  as  Ichabod  discov- 
ered, was  armed,  besides  his  knife  and  tomahawk,  with  his  own 
old  familiar  rifle.  How  earnestly  he  gazed  upon  it,  as  if  almost 
expecting  and  hoping  to  see  it  recognize  its  old  master  and  owner! 

It  was  at  this  time,  and  when  silence  throughout  the  Indian 
encampment  was  so  well  preserved  that  Ichabod  could  plainly 
hear  the  crackling  of  the  boughs  which  were  placed  upon  the  fire, 
although  he  was  at  a  distance  of  eight  or  ten  rods  from  it,  that  a 
wild  yell,  but  one  which  denoted  exultation  upon  the  part  of  the 
Seneca  from  whom  it  proceeded,  was  heard  to  arise  from  the 
direction  of  the  lodge  in  which  Bagsley  and  his  companion  wer« 
confined.  He  heard  some  words  in  the  Seneca  language,  pro- 
nounced, at  which  his  guard  arose  erect,  with  an  appearance  of 
excitement.  In  a  few  moments  he  discovered  the  cause  of  the 
exclamation  of  the  Seneca,  and  of  the  excitement  under  which 
his  sentinel  evidently  labored.  An  Indian  came  rapidly  towards 
the  tire,  around  which  his  companions  were  gathered,  with  a  bot- 
tle in  his  hand,  of  which  he  smelt  and  tasted  with  gestures  of  ex* 
travagant  joj. 


118  THI      FROKTIERSMBir. 

It  seemed  that  the  lucky  Seneca,  while  in  the  lodge  ocrapieA 
by  Bagsley  and  the  bailiff,  had  been  attracted  by  a  peculiar  odor 
which  came  from  the  breath  of  the  latter,  and  which  his  olfacto- 
ries  at  once  pronounced  "  fire-water."  Convinced  that  this  odor 
must  be  caused  by  the  presence  of  the  article  itself,  in  some 
quantity,  he  commenced  a  search  of  the  unfortunate  dignitary ; 
and,  hidden  in  a  capacious  pocket,  wrapped  in  old  writs  and  exe- 
cutions, but  which  were  uninteligible  j;o  the  Indian,  he  found  the 
bottle  which  we  have  seen  him  carry  towards  his  companions  at 
the  fire.  It  was  at  the  moment  of  finding  it,  that  he  had  uttered 
the  loud  exclamation  of  joy,  which  had  fallen  upon  the  ears  of 
Ichabod. 

Loud  and  frequent  were  the  exclaimations  of  "  Ugh  !"  "  ugh  !** 
among  the  Indians,  when  it  was  discovered  that  such  a  prize  had 
been  found.  Panther,  who  was  attracted  from  his  lodge  by  the 
noise,  endeavored  to  induce  the  Indians  to  surrender  the  pleasure 
of  drinking  the  "  fire-water"  on  this  occasion,  for  one  more  ap- 
propriate, and  when  less  watchfulness  was  necessary.  But  all 
his  endeavors  were  vain ;  for  the  authority  of  a  chief,  always 
precarious,  cannot  be  enforced  against  the  wishes  and  demands  of 
the  tribe.  Theirs  was  an  arbitrary  government,  and  power  was 
held  only  upon  a  feeble  tenure,  viz :  the  pleasure  of  the  people. 
When  Panther  found  that  he  could  not  prevent  the  larger  por- 
tion of  the  Indians  from  indulging  in  the  pleasant  intoxication 
which  would  result  from  imbibing  the  "  fire-water,"  he  took,  such 
means — with  the  assistance  of  Deersfoot  and  a  few  others,  who 
were  determined  to  remain  sober — as  would  be  most  likely  to  pro- 
mote their  safety,  should  the  larger  portion  of  the  Senecas  be- 
come unfit  to  discharge  their  duties. 

The  Indians  who  were  about  the  fire,  and  among  whom  the 
whiskey  bottle  circulated  freely,  soon  began  to  give  evidence  of 
unwonted  excitement.  Dancing,  singing,  shrieking,  they  ap- 
peared, to  one  at  the  distance  from  them  at  which  Ichabod  was 
placed,  more  like  fiends  in  Pandemonium,  than  human  beings,  as 
the  red  light  of  the  fire  fell  upon  their  distorted  figures.  The 
rays  of  the  fire,  when  burning  brightest,  fell  distinctly  upon  the 
form  of  Ichabod;  but  as  the  drunkenness  increased,  and  the 
light  diminished,  he  was  thrown  into  a  shadow.  His  guard 
labored  under  a  strong  desire  to  get  a  taste  of  the  whiskey ;  for 
he  would  occasionally  walk  at  a  distance  of  three  or  four  rods 
from  him,  where  he  would  stand,  looking  towards  the  fire,  until 
a  fear  for  the  security  of  his  prisoner  would  steal  across  his 
mind,  when  he  would  rapidly  return;  and,  perceiving  by  a 
glance  that  all  was  right,  would,  after  a  few  moments,  again 
move  slowly  in  the  direction  of  the  fire.  His  guard  had  thua 
Mt  him,  for  the  second  time,  when,  as  he  fancied,  he  heard  his 
name  faintly  whispered  behind  him.  In  a  moment  afterwards, 
the  thongs  that  bound  his  feet,  hands  and  ghoulders,  were  oul^ 


THE      FRONTIERSMEN.  119 

leaving  fastened,  only  that  which  bound  him  by  the  waist. 
The  friend,  whoever  it  was,  that  had  performed  this  kindly  act, 
doubtless  knew  that  it  would  not  do  to  unbind  him  completely, 
at  once,  as  the  tightness  of  the  ligatures,  and  the  length  of  tht 
confinement,  would  be  apt  to  deprive  the  prisoner,  for  a  few 
moments,  of  the  free  use  of  his  limbs.  The  thongs  that  had 
been  cut,  were  so  disposed  that  the  guard,  on  his  return,  without 
i  very  close  observation,  would  not  be  able  to  discover  the  de- 
<6ption.  The  unknown  friend  had  evidently  planted  himself 
behind  the  tree  to  which  Ichabod  was  fastened,  waiting  for  the 
proper  moment  to  sever  the  remaining  thong. 

"  Know  friend  ?"  asked  a  voice,  in  a  whisper,  which  Ichabod 
iflmediately  recognized. 

^'Ah!  is  it  you.  Eagle's- Wing  ?    I  might  have  known  that, 
thiugh.     No  one  else  would  have  dared  to  do  such  a  thing," 

'This  nothing,  when  Injins  drunk.  Poor  Injin  that  get  drunk. 
SaJ,  when  ready  to  have  other  thong  cut." 

"JDon't  be  in  a  hurry.  Eagle's- Wing.  You  see  that  red  devil, 
yoriBer,  that's  been  set  here  to  guard  me?  He's  got  my  rifle, 
andl  want  it.  Wait  till  he  comes  up  here  again,  and  when  he 
has  Wrly  got  his  back  turned,  then  cut  the  thong :  or,  if  you've 
got  aspare  knife,  just  give  me  that,  and  I'll  cut  it  myself,  while 
you  fet  the  rifle.     Hush !  he's  coming." 

Th\  Seneca  advanced  rapidly,  evidently  fearful  that  some  acci- 
dent light  have  happened  during  his  long  absence.     At   thir 
momeit,  a  large  quantity  of  brush  was  thrown  upon  the  firOj 
which llmost  wholly — for  a  few  moments — obscured  the  light, 
and  le^  them  buried  in  thick  darkness.     This  might  be  a  cir- 
cumstance either  favorable  or  unfavorable,  depending,  however, 
upon  tU  suspicious  nature  of  the  Indian.     As  it  seemed,  he  was 
more  thn  usually  suspicious;   and  Ichabod  breathed  shorter, 
and  the  'uscarora  prepared  for  a  sudden  spring  upon  him,  as  the 
Seneca  £(vanced  close  to  Ichabod;  and,  with  the  intention  of 
ascertainig  that  his  prisoner  was  safe,  he  reached  out  his  hand 
to  feel  ofthe  thongs.     Fortunately,  his  hand  fell  upon  that 
which  renjtined  uncut,  about  the  waist  of  Ichabod,  which  he 
slightly  je^^ed ;  and  feeling  it  secure,  did  not  examine  any  further, 
but  turnedlas  if  to  walk  back  towards  the  fire.     At  this  mo- 
ment, a  knfc  was  passed  to  Ichabod  by  the  Tuscarora,  and  at 
the  same  iniant,  the  latter  darted  upon  the  Seneca,  and  struck 
him  througlihe  back  with  his  knife.     There  was  no  struggle — • 
no  shriek,  no;ound  that  could  have  been  heard  four  rods  distant, 
even ;  for  tb  blade  had,  doubtless,  pierced  the  heart  of  the 
Seneca,  and  h\f^lj  with  a  slight  shudder,  forwards,  on  his  face. 
The  Tuscarorifeeized  the  rifle  of  Ichabod,  and  before  the  latter 
had  fairly  unlgtened  himself  from  the  tree,  he  had  secured 
beneath  his  belthe  scalp  of  the  unfortunate  Seneca. 
«  Three  scalp  Awar-path,"  said  Eagle's-Wing.  *'  That  uot  btd," 


ISO  THE      FBONTIISSICIK. 

*  I  am  sorry  that  you  should  stick  to  that  heathenish  custom, 
Eagle's-Wing,"  said  Ichabod;  "but  there's  no  use  talking  abouk 
it.  An  Injin's  an  Injin,  and  I  suppose  he  must  fight  like  an 
Injin." 

Guided  by  the  Tuscarora,  Ichabod  proceeded  to  the  border  of 
the  clearing — but  beyond  the  circle  of  light  thrown  by  the  fire — 
to  the  distance  of  eight  or  ten  rods,  where  they  found  Raph, 
anxiously  waiting  the  result  of  Eagle's- Wing's  enterprise.  F-'om 
his  position,  while  the  fire  was  burning,  he  was  able  to  see  !>oth 
Ichabod  and  the  Tuscarora,  until  the  moment  when  the  giard 
had  returned  to  the  tree,  when  the  obscurity  had  withdiawn 
them  from  his  sight.  The  sudden  renewal  of  the  light,  a?  the 
fire  leaped  and  crackled  among  the  dry  branches,  showed  him 
that  they  had  escaped ;  and  it  was  with  no  little  pleasure  that 
be  again  grasped  the  honest  hand  of  Ichabod. 

But  there  was  yet  another  undertaking  to  be  performed— and 
that  was,  the  release  of  both  Ruth  and  Singing-Bird.  Ralph 
and  Eagle's-Wing  had  hit  upon  a  plan  by  which  they  hped  to 
accomplish  their  purpose ;  and  it  was  rapidly  communicted  to 
Ichabod,  who  approved  of  it ;  when  they  immediately  se  about 
putting  it  into  execution. 

The  lodge  occupied  by  the  two  prisoners  whom  tby  now 
sought  to  release,  was,  as  we  have  already  mentioned,  sitiated  in 
the  centre  of  a  circle  of  lodges.  The  fire  which  the  savges  had 
kindled,  was  near  the  centre  of  the  circle,  and  was  in  close 
proximity,  therefore,  to  the  lodge  occupied  by  Ruth  andSinging- 
Bird :  but  the  fire  was  on  the  south  of  it,  so  that  the  ?orth  side 
of  the  lodge,  as  well  as  the  lodges  immediately  in  the  ear,  were 
thrown  into  the  shade.  When  the  hurried  communiation  was 
made  to  Ichabod,  of  the  plan  proposed,  they  wer  standing 
directly  in  the  rear  of  the  lodge,  and  at  a  distance  f  only  ten 
or  fifteen  rods  from  the  outer  lodges.  It  was  neossary  that 
their  plan  should  be  put  in  execution  at  once,  as  at  ay  moment 
the  discovery  of  Ichabod's  escape  might  be  mad,  when  the 
Indians  would  set  off  in  pursuit ;  and  without  theirpresent  plan 
could,  therefore,  be  executed  before  that  event  shuld  happen, 
it  would  be  likely  to  fail  altogether. 

They  advanced  cautiously  towards  the  lodges  ;  ad  when  thej 
arrived  at  a  point  where  they  had  them  in  full  rw,  as  well  as 
the  Senecas,  who  were  yet  dancing  and  screaring  about  the 
fire,  they  congratcjlated  themselves  on  the  fact,  hat  no  Indian 
was  to  be  discovered  in  the  direction  in  whicbthey  wished  to 
proceed.  They  had  reached  within  six  rods  of  te  outer  lodges, 
and  Eagles- Wing  had  already  thrown  himself  von  the  ground, 
with  the  intention  of  creeping  forward  in  thf  position,  when 
Guthrie  was  seen,  accompanied  by  Pantherapproaching  the 
lodge  occupied  by  the  two  female  prisoners,  bey  came  within 
a  few  feet  of  it,  when  they  sat  down  upon  a  &  engaged,  app»* 


VBI     rRONTISRSMCir.  121 

fwitl7,  in  earnest  conversation.  Their  voices  could  be  heard 
occasionally ;  and  although  their  precise  conversation  could  not 
be  ascertained,  it  was  obvious  that  Guthrie  was  warmly  insisting 
upon  some  measure  that  was  opposed  to  Panther.  Once  or  twice 
Ralph  thought  he  detected  the  name  of  Ruth  Barton,  as  Guthrie 
was  expostulating  in  a  somewhat  louder  tone  of  voice  than  usual. 
Knowing  the  unscrupulous  nature  of  the  villain,  he  felt,  by  a 
sort  of  instinct,  that  Panther,  in  that  conversation,  for  some  rea* 
son  of  his  own,  was  occupying  a  position  in  accordance  with  his 
own  sentiments  and  feelings. 

The  presence  of  these  two  individuals  disconcerted  the  whole 
plan  of  operations.  It  was  a  difficulty  which  had  not  been  an- 
ticipated. After  waiting  for  a  short  time,  and  seeing  that  neither 
Guthrie  nor  Panther  showed  any  immediate  intention  of  remov- 
ing, they  anxiously  sought  for  some  other  plan,  by  which  to 
accomplish  their  purpose.  But  ere  that  was  done,  Panther,  to 
their  great  joy,  arose  and  departed  in  the  direction  of  the  fire. 
Guthrie  now  remained  alone.  The  Tuscarora  significantly  drevr 
his  knife,  and  pointed  towards  him ;  but  Ichabod,  at  once,  ex- 
pressed his  dissent. 

'•  That  will  never  do,  Eagle's-Wing.  You  can't  do  that  twice 
in  one  hour,  and  have  it  succeed ;  for  if  he  makes  the  slightest 
noise,  we  shall  be  obliged  to  take  to  our  heels.  No — that  won't 
do.  I  have  it,"  said  he,  with  a  sudden  idea,  "  and  I'll  do  a  little 
business  of  my  own,  at  the  same  time  ;"  and,  after  whispering  a 
few  words  to  his  companions,  he  cautiously  crept  backwards  into 
the  wood,  and  then  proceeded  as  cautiously  in  a  westward  direc- 
tion, until  he  had  reached  a  point  sufficiently  out  of  the  course 
that  it  would  be  necessary  for  Ralph  and  Eagle's-Wing  to  pur- 
sue in  making  their  escape. 

Guthrie,  in  the  meantime,  remained  seated  in  the  same  position 
which  he  had  occupied  during  the  conversation  with  Panther. 
He  was  evidently  in  a  better  mood  ;  for,  with  his  cap  slouched 
over  his  eyes,  and  his  head  leaning  upon  his  hand,  he  seemed  to 
be  muttering  his  grievances  to  himself.  All  at  once,  his  ears 
were  saluted  with  the  peculiar  grunt  or  growl  of  a  bear.  He 
raised  his  head,  turned  slowly  round,  and  looked  backwards 
toward  the  forest ;  then,  examining  his  rifle,  raised  himself  upon 
his  feet.  Now,  a  bear,  in  the  days  of  which  we  are  writing,  was 
not,  by  any  means,  a  very  uncommon  object  with  the  hunter  in 
this  porMon  of  the  State  ;  but  those  animals  were  sufficiently 
scarce,  so  that  the  capture  of  one,  while  it  added  largely  to  one's 
stock  of  provisions,  also  added  very  much  to  the  reputation  of 
the  hunter.  Guthrie,-  notwithstanding  the  mood  which  seemed 
to  be  upon  him,  did  not  choose  to  neglect  so  favorable  an  oppor 
tunity  of,  at  the  same  time,  ministering  to  the  appetites  of  hii 
companions,  and  to  his  own  reputation  as  a  skilful  hunter.  He 
again  heard  the  growl  of  the  bear,  and,  looking  cautiously  about 


122  THE      FBONTIERSMEK. 

to  see  that  no  one  else  had  noticed  the  proximity  of  the  fayonte 
game,  he  moved  slowly  forward  towards  the  forest. 

When  he  had  advanced  to  a  point  where  his  back  was  turned 
towards  the  position  occupied  by  Ralph  and  Eagle's-Wing,  the 
latter  crept  quickly  forward  in  the  direction  of  the  lodge;  he 
passed  the  outer  lodge,  and  halting  for  a  moment  to  see  that 
he  was  not  observed,  moved  again  rapidly  towards  the  lodge 
where  he  expected  to  find  Ruth  and  her  companion. 

As  Guthrie  advanced  into  the  forest,  Ichabod,  from  whom  the 
sounds  had  proceeded  that  attracted  his  attention,  moved  as  cau- 
tiously before  him,  occasionally,  however,  imitating  the  growl  of 
the  animal  he  was  personating,  so  as  to  keep  Guthrie  from  stray- 
ing from  the  right  direction.  In  this  manner,  he  had  succeeded 
in  leading  Guthrie  nearly  half  a  mile  from  the  lodges  of  the 
Senecas,  when,  as  he  believed  that  before  that  time,  Ralph  and 
Eagle's-Wing  must  have  succeeded  in  their  efforts,  as  a  failure  on 
their  part  would  have  been  signalled  by  the  cries  of  the  enemy, 
he  determined  to  end  the  hunt  upon  which  Guthrie  was  engaged, 
by  letting  him  know  the  precise  game  of  which  he  had  been  in 
pursuit.  Secreting  himself  behind  a  tree,  that  he  might  not  be 
too  early  discovered  by  Guthrie,  as  it  was  not  so  dark  but  that 
objects  at  two  or  three  rods'  distance  might  be  discerned  with 
tolerable  accuracy,  he  waited  the  coming  of  his  enemy.  As 
Guthrie  was  about  passing  him,  slightly  bent  forward,  as  in  the 
attempt  to  pierce  into  the  obscurity  of  the  forest,  he  leaped  upon 
him  and  pinioned  him  in  his  muscular  arms.  In  a  moment  more, 
Guthrie  was  disarmed,  and  was  lying  helplessly  upon  the  ground, 
his  hands  being  securely  fastened  by  a  cord  which  Ichabod  had 
drawn  from  his  pocket.  Guthrie,  in  his  astonishment  and  fear, 
had  not  yet  recognized  the  person  of  his  captor. 

"  Get  up  here,  you  infarnal  villain  !"  cried  Ichabod ;  "  what's 
the  use  of  lying  upon  the  ground,  when  you  can  just  as  well 
stand  on  your  feet  ?"  and  he  caught  hold  of  him  to  assist  him 
in  rising.  Guthrie  now  saw  that  he  was  in  the  power  of  Icha- 
bod— and  at  once,  with  the  characteristic  meanness  and  cow* 
ardice  of  a  rascal,  began  to  beg  for  life. 

"  You  judge  of  me,  I  reckon,"  said  Ichabod,  with  contempt,  "by 
vhat  you'd  do  yourself,  were  you  in  my  place,  you  white-livered 
Tory.  Stop  your  howling.  I  don't  intend  to  kill  you.  I  never 
do  that  kind  of  thing  in  cold  blood  ;  and  yet  I  don't  know  why 
a  man's  conscience  should  be  burdened  any  by  smothering  the 
venom  of  such  a  reptile  as  this,  any  where  he  can  catch  him." 

Ichabod  surveyed  the  miserable  wretch  for  a  few  moments, 
with  a  mixture  of  disgust,  contempt,  and  pity.  Fear  seemed  to 
deprive  him  of  all  rational  power  of  speech,  and  he  testififid  his 
agony  by  sobs  and  shrieks.  Ichabod  drew  from  his  pocket  an- 
other cord. 

"I'll  tell  you  what,  you  infarnal  traitor,  you  shall  have  % 


THE      FRONTIEBSMEN.  128 

iouch  of  the  same  fare  you  sarved  up  for  mo  ;  only  you  won't 
lave  anybody  to  guard  you  from  the  bears  and  wolves.  You'll 
je  tied  up  to  this  tree  to-night ;  and  if  your  friends  find  you 
scattered  round  in  pieces  in  the  morning,  it  will  be  the  fault  of 
;he  bears  and  wolves,  and  not  mine." 

With  this,  he  fastened  him  securely  to  the  tree.  Then  shoul- 
lering  his  rifle,  he  exclaimed,  amidst  the  shrieks  of  the  miserable 
RTctch  for  help — 

"  You're  a  Tory,  a  traitor,  and  a  liar ;  and  there's  no  use  in 
isking  God  to  have  marcy  on  your  soul,  under  any  circum- 
itances.  All  I've  got  to  say  is,  before  bidding  you  good-nigkt, 
;hat  if  you  escape  from  here,  and  your  miserable  carcass  ever 
jTOsses  my  path,  I'll  shoot  you  as  I  would  a  wolf." 

So  saying,  he  departed  in  a  north-easterly  direction,  towards 
he  clump  of  willows  where  the  canoe  of  Eagle's-Wing  was  con- 
jealed.  This  spot  had  been  agreed  upon  as  the  rendezvous  ;  and 
[chabod  walked  rapidly,  spurred  on  by  the  excitements  of  the 
lay  through  which  he  had  already  passed,  and  by  the  hope  of 
neeting  all  his  friends  once  more  in  safety.  For  nearly  a  quar- 
«r  of  a  mile,  the  shrieks  of  Guthrie  could  be  heard,  mingled  with 
)aths  and  cries  for  help ;  but  soon  these  sounds  failed  to  reach 
lis  ears,  and  he  was  alone  amidst  the  silence  of  the  forest. 


^♦» 


CHAPTER    XVI. 

**  The  bow  has  lost  its  wonted  spring, 
The  arrow  falters  on  the  wing, 
Nor  carries  ruin  from  the  string, 
To  end  their  being  and  our  woes." 

Fbbkeait. 

The  Tuscarora,  after  the  departure  of  Ichabod,  followed  by" 
Buthrie,  cautiously  crept  towards  the  lodge  in  which  he  expected 
X)  find  Ruth  and  Singing-Bird.  This  he  was  enabled  to  do  in 
jomparative  safety,  as  he  moved  in  a  deep  shadow  ;  and  his  only 
ianger  consisted  in  the  chance  of  meeting  some  straggling  Sen- 
jca,  or  some  one  who  might  have  been  selected  as  a  guard  for 
this  particular  quarter.  But,  without  interruption,  he  gained 
the  side  of  tne  lodge,  the  entrance  to  which  was  upon  the  west ; 
aut  he  could  not  reach  it  without  a  momentary  exposure  of  his 
person  to  the  eyes  of  any  one  who  might  chance  to  be  looking  in 
ihat  direction.  Arriving  at  this  point,  he  paused,  and  began  imi- 
tating the  shrill  whistle  or  screech  of  the  tree-toad,  which,  it 
jeems.  had  been  agreed  upon  between  him  and  Singing-Bird,  as 
I  signal  of  his  presence,  in  any  emergency  like  the  present.  To 
liis  surprise,  he  received  no  answer.     Again  he  gave  the  signalf 


124  THE      FRONTIERSMEN. 

but  DO  answer  was  returned.  A  cold  shudder  ran  through  thi 
frame  of  the  Tuscarora,  as  he  feared  that  the  prisoners  had  been 
removed,  and  that  their  enterprise  must  fail.  But  he  was  de- 
termined to  realize  his  worst  fears  by  an  examination  of  the 
interior  of  this  lodge.  With  this  view,  he  advanced  to  the  ex- 
treme point  where  his  person  could  be  obscured  in  the  shadow— 
a  distance  of  six  or  eight  feet  from  the  entrance.  He  darted 
forward,  with  an  agility  quickened  by  the  mixture  of  hope  and 
fear,  and  found  himself  within  the  lodge.  It  was  empty.  For  a 
moment,  the  impassable  nature  of  the  savage  was  overpowered, 
and  he  gazed  around  him  with  a  look  of  despair ;  and  a  shudder 
passed  over  him,  that  shook  his  strong  frame  as  a  leaf  is  shaken 
by  the  wind.  But  despair  could  not  bring  relief,  and  activity 
and  courage  only  could  retrieve  the  time  that  had  been  lost. 
Again  he  passed  the  entrance,  and  with  the  same  caution  retreated 
to  the  place  where  he  had  left  his  companion. 

"  They  are  gone !"  he  said.  ,«, 

"  Gone  ?"  exclaimed  Ralph.  1 ' 

But  at  the  same  moment  a  yell  was  heard ;  and  they  beheld 
the  Indians  darting  from  the  fire  towards  the  spot  where  Ichabod 
had  been  confined.  It  was  now  too  late ;  their  only  hope  was 
in  flight.  A  few  moments  was  left  them,  ere  the  Senecas  would 
be  upon  their  track ;  for  the  savages  would  readily  comprehend 
that  the  escaped  prisoner  would  fly  in  the  direction  of  the  cot- 
tage. Ralph  and  Eagle's-Wing  hesitated  for  a  moment ;  the  last 
hope  of  relief  to  the  unfortunate  prisoners  seemed  extinguished 
by  this  premature  discovery  of  the  flight  of  Ichabod.  They 
darted  into  the  forest,  and  rapidly  ran  in  the  direction  of  the 
rendezvous  which  had  been  agreed  upon  with  their  friend.  Some  ; 
little  time  elapsed,  ere  they  discovered  that  they  were  pursued ; 
but  another,  and  wilder  and  fiercer  yell  from  the  Indians,  deno- 
ted that  some  new  discovery  had  taken  place,  which  had  excited ' 
them  still  more.  Had  Ichabod  been  again  captured  ?  That 
could  not  well  be  ;  as  he  had  but  a  short  time  before  left  them ; 
and  they  knew  that  he  did  not  intend  to  return  again  to  the 
lodges  of  tiie  Senecas.  A  hope  sprang  to  the  heart  of  Ralph,  that 
perhaps  Ruth  and  Singing-Bird  had  also  escaped ;  and  that  the 
Senecas  had  but  just  ascertained  that  these,  the  most  prized  of 
their  prisoners,  had  fled.  But  the  hope  was  too  faint,  too  weak,  I 
to  revive  his  drooping  spirits. 

They  were  now  conscious  that  they  were  pursued,  and  that] 
their  pursuers  could  not  be.  at  the  most,  more  than  a  hundred 
rods  behind  them.  It  was  yet  half  a  mile  to  the  rendezvous  j  but' 
they  were  both  inured  to  exercise  ;  and  they  ran  with  an  eise 
and  freedom,  that  promised  to  keep  at  least  that  distance  betweea 
them  and  their  pursuers.  After  the  cries  of  the  Senecas  which 
iiad  first  fallen  upon  their  ears,  had  died  in  the  silence,  occa* 
jionally  was  heard  a  wild  shriek  behind  them ;  but  at  length 


THE      FRONTIERSMEN.  125 

fheso  entirely  ceased.  It  was  a  chase  of  life  and  death — the 
silence  of  the  forest  was  unbroken  by  any  sound  save  that 
of  its  own  music,  answering  to  the  gentle  pressure  of  the  wind ; 
but  they  knew  well  that  this  silence  was  owing  to  the  caution  of 
their  unrelenting  enemies. 

They  arrived,  panting  at  the  rendezvous.  Eagle's- Wing 
darted  into  the  clump  of  willows,  with  the  expectation  of  behold- 
ing Ichabod ;  but  he  was  not  there.  What  was  now  to  be  done  ? 
Should  they  remain  here,  or  continue  their  flight  towards  the 
cottage  ?  It  was  fully  a  mile  distant ;  and  yet,  were  they  to  bo 
absent,  should  the  Senecas  again  attack  it,  as  they  would  be 
likely  to  do,  in  their  present  excitement.  Barton  and  the  negro 
would,  perhaps,  be  unable  to  defend  it ;  and  they,  too,  would  fall 
into  the  hands  of  the  Senecas,  from  whom  no  mercy  could  now 
be  expected  They  must  continue  their  flight ;  it  was  the  only 
course.  A  few  moments  had  been  lost  in  this  brief  consultation  ; 
but  the  time  lost  had  served  to  give  them  new  energy  for  flight. 

They  proceeded  onward  with  the  same  rapidity ;  the  shanty 
was  passed ;  and  they  reached  the  path  leading  from  the  cottaga 
into  the  valley.  They  had  arrived  within  a  quarter  of  a  mile  of 
the  cottage,  when  they  discovered  persons  moving  before  them, 
in  the  same  path  in  which  they  were  traveling.  They  relaxed 
their  speed,  and  advanced  with  more  caution  than  they  had  yet 
observed.  But,  cautious  as  they  were,  their  approach  was 
detected  by  the  persons  they  had  observed. 

"  Speak,  or  I  fire  !"  shouted  the  stentorian  voice  of  Ichabod. 

"  Ichabod !"  exclaimed  Ralph,  who  with  Eagle's- Wing  now 
rapidly  approached;  and  what  was  their  surprise  and  joy,  as 
they  beheld  with  their  friend,  both  Ruth  and  Singing-Bird. 

Hearty  were  the  salutations,  and  joyful  the  greetings  between 
the  re-united  friends ;  but  Ralph  quickly  explained  the  situation 
of  matters  ;  and  the  fact  that  the  Senecas  must  be  within  a  hun- 
dred rods  of  them,  at  least. 

They  had  yet  time  to  reach  the  cottage.  Their  flight  was  neces- 
sarily slow ;  but  the  Indians  must  run  at  least  two  rods  to  their 
one,  to  overtake  them.  This  was  great  odds,  under  ordinary  cir- 
cumstances ;  but,  although  Singing-Bird  was  more  used  to  thia 
species  of  exercise  than  Ruth,  yet  even  she  was  fatigued  already  ; 
but  the  energy  that  fear  will  give,  even  when  the  physical  powers 
are  over-taxed,  supported  Ruth  for  a  while.  They  were  in  sight 
of  the  cottage — it  was  not  more  than  a  furlong  distant,  when 
Ruth,  who  had  been  partially  supported  by  Ralph,  to  this  pointy 
fell  faintiug  into  his  arms.  Yet  sustaining  her  insensible  form^ 
he  still  advanced  rapidly  towards  the  cottage.  It  was  now  evi- 
dent that  some  of  their  pursuers  were  close  behind  them ;  a  fierce 
yell  communicated  to  them  the  fact,  that  they  had  been  discov- 
ered; and  a  wild  scream  from  twenty  throats  a  few  rods.moMi 
distant  denoted  that  their  pursuers  was  rapidly  overtaking  thMHk 


126  THE      FRONTIERSMEN, 

*PI1  have  a  crack  at  that  Tnjin.  any  way,"  exclaimed  Tchabod ; 
as  the  foremost  Seneca  came  leaping  towards  them.  Excited  by 
the  chase,  he  did  not  stop  to  count  the  odds ;  but  with  upraised 
tomahawk,  the  Indian  rushed  towards  the  flying  group.  Ichabod 
fired ;  and  the  scream  of  the  Indian  denoted  that  the  ball  had 
taken  effect.  It  had,  at  least,  learned  him  moderation ;  and  he 
stopped  leaning  against  a  tree,  awaiting  the  approach  of  his  com- 
panions. 

They  passed  the  grove — the  cottage  door  was  opened,  and  Bar- 
ion  advanced  to  meet  them.  A  moment  more,  and  they  had 
passed  the  treshhold,  and  the  <2oor  was  barred.  At  this  instant, 
the  pursuers  came  rushing  into  the  grove ;  and  fierce  and  wild 
were  the  shrieks  of  anger,  bs  they  saw  their  escaped  prisoners 
shut  from  their  view. 

We  will  take  this  opport»inity,  while  the  reunited  friends  are 
exchanging  their  congratulations  at  once  more  beholding  each 
Dther  in  safety,  to  narrate  briefly  the  history  of  the  escape  of 
Ruth  and  Singing-Bird. 

It  has  been  said  that  Singmg-Bird,  by  the  use  of  a  little  dupli 
city,  had  been  able  partially  to  deceive  the  Senecas.  She  had 
been  able  to  make  Panther  believe  that  when  they  had  once 
reached  the  country  of  the  Senecas,  beyond  the  lakes,  she  would 
yield  to  his  wishes,  and  become  his  wife.  From  the  time  that 
Panther  had  formed  this  belief,  she  was  much  less  carefully 
watched ;  and  had  such  opportunities  to  escape,  that  nothing  but 
her  ignorance  of  the  place  where  Eagle's-Wing  was  to  be  found, 
had  prevented  her  from  improving  them.  When  Ruth  was 
brought  in  as  a  captive,  and  she  had  ascertained  the  precise 
condition  of  matters,  she  at  once  resolved  to  fly,  on  the  first 
opportunity.  The  same  incident  which  had  formed  the  escape  of 
Ichabod— the  debauch  of  the  Indians — presented  the  opportunity 
she  wished ;  and  taking  a  favorable  moment,  when  the  larger 
portion  of  the  Senecas  were  gathered  about  the  fire,  and  the  few 
who  remained  sober,  were  distributed  as  guards  over  a  much 
larger  space  than  usual,  she  and  Ruth  issued  from  the  lodge. 
They  passed  the  precise  spot,  which,  but  a  few  moments  later, 
was  occupied  by  Ralph  and  the  Tuscarora — and  entered  the 
forest.  At  first,  excited  by  the  hope  of  liberty,  and  the  fear  of 
detection,  they  fled  with  a  speed  which  their  strength  and  power 
of  endurance  would  not  allow  them  long  to  continue ;  but  as 
they  began  to  feel  the  fatigue  incident  upon  their  efforts,  and  as 
they  were  not  able  to  ascertain  that  the  Senecas  had  learned 
their  flight,  they  slackened  their  speed,  and  walked  with  as  much 
rapidity  as  the  nature  of  the  ground  would  allow.  They  endea- 
vored to  keep  a  straight  north-westerly  course ;  and  by  doing  sOj 
they  would  naturally  reach  that  point  on  the  river,  which  had 
been  selected,  although  unknown  to  them,  by  Ichabod  and  his 
firiendfi^  for  a  rendezvous, 


h 


THE      FRONTIERSMEN.  127 


They  did,  in  fact,  reach  that  particular  spot ;  and  were  passirig 
by  it,  when  Ichabod,  who  had  just  before  reached  it.  to  hi» 
exceeding  surprise  beheld  them,  and  at  once  presented  himself, 
calling  them  by  name,  to  prevent  the  fear  which  they  would 
naturally  feel,  had  he  suddenly  shown  himself,  when  in  the 
darkness,  perhaps,  they  would  not  have  been  able  to  recognize 
him. 

He  informed  them  of  the  fact  that  Ralph  and  Eagle  s-Wing 
were  then  engaged  in  efforts  for  their  escape ;  and  he  debated 
for  a  few  moments  with  himself,  whether  they  should  remain  at 
the  rendezvous,  and  wait  the  coming  of  their  friends,  or  proceed 
towards  the  cottage.  But  the  consideration,  that  should  Ralph 
and  Eagle's-Wing  be  discovered^  oi  should  the  Indians  ascertain 
the  flight  of  himself  and  his  companions,  their  positio«  at  the 
rendezvous  would  be  much  less  safe,  encumbered  as  they  would  be 
with  companions  whom  it  would  be  necessary  to  protect,  and 
who  could  not  add  to  the  means  of  defence,  determined  him  to 
proceed ;  and  they  set  off  immediately,  in  the  direction  of  the 
cottage.     The  rest  of  the  story  has  been  already  told. 

When  the  family  and  friends  found  themselves  once  more 
united  in  the  cottage,  after  the  first  hearty  congratulations,  they 
proceeded  to  observe  the  dispositions  made  by  the  Indians ;  and 
to  discover,  if  possible,  what  might  be  their  plan  of  operations^ 
The  grove  by  this  time  was  filled  with  enemies  ;  and  a  few,  even, 
had  advanced  upon  the  lawn  between  the  grove  and  the  cottage  ^ 
but  they  were  soon  recalled  to  their  ideas  of  safety  and  self-pro- 
tection, by  the  discharge  of  the  rifles  of  Ichabod  and  the  Tusca- 
rora,  not  without  effect.  These  more  adventurous  Senecas,  imme- 
diately retired. 

All  necessary  and  proper  precautions  were  at  once  taken  ;  but 
the  Indians  made  no  movement  that  indicated  an  immediate 
attack.  It  was  probable,  even,  that  the  result  of  their  former 
attack,  might  altogether  discourage  them  from  a  new  attempt ; 
but  whatever  was  their  intention,  they  were  careful  not  to  give 
any  intimation  of  it.  Within  the  grove,  they  were  not,  in  the 
darkness,  visible  from  the  cottage,  and  it  was  only  after  a 
number  of  hours  had  passed,  without  any  indications  of  an 
attack,  that  it  was  thought  they  would  be  left  in  peace  for  the 
night. 

The  proper  precautions  for  safety  were  taken  ;  and  the  over 
vrorn  and  over-tasked  defenders  of  the  cottage  sought  a  brokeB 
repo89 


128  TBK      rBOKTIEBSMIV. 


CHAPTER    XVII. 

"  The  miserable  have  no  other  medicine. 
But  only  hope ; 
I  have  hope  to  live." 

Measubb  for  Miasvbi. 

The  mttPtiing  sun  arose  bright  and  cheerful,  with  promise  of 
■©ne  of  thoae  fair  autumnal  days  which  has  crowned  this  pecu- 
liar season,  as  the  '•  sweetest,  saddest  of  the  year."  The  inmates 
of  the  cottage,  too,  arose  refreshed  by  a  few  hours  of  repose,  and 
with  energies  strengthened  for  the  labors  or  dangers  of  the  day. 
They  were  once  more  united.  The  malice  of  their  enemies  had 
been  defeated,  and  the  courage  and  inspiration  which  are  derived 
from  success,  gave  promise  of  ultimate  triumph  over  all  their 
diflBculties. 

The  morning  meal  passed  off  happily  and  cheerfully ;  and  Ruth 
notwithstanding  the  excitement  and  fatigue  of  the  preceding 
evening,  possessed  all  that  sweetness  and  calmness  of  spirit  which 
had  so  much  charmed  Ralph,  on  the  evening  of  his  arrival. 

"  Really,  Captain  Weston,"  she  said,  "you  must  have  a  strange 
idea  of  this  valley.  You  have  been  with  us  but  four  days,  and 
we  have  had  in  that  brief  time,  an  Indian  war — sieges  and  bat- 
ties — captivities  and  escapes." 

"  I  must  say,  Miss  Barton,  that  you  have  provided  me  with 
one  entertainment  to  which  I  was  not  invited ;  but  we  may  hope 
now,  that  the ''  piping  days  of  peace"  are  come.  Your  father  has 
some  fine  trout-fishing  yet  in  reserve  for  me,  and  Jenkins  wishes 
to  survey  his  location  for  a  factory  and  city  lots." 

This  rally  at  Ichabod  was  received  with  considerable  merri- 
ment, but  he  was  not  at  all  disconcerted. 

"  You  may  laugh  at  that  idea,  Captin,"  said  he,  "  but  it  isn't 
laughing  at  a  sensible  thing  that  makes  it  ridiculous.  But  I  was 
rather  provoked,  when  I  proposed  that  idea  to  them  Senecas  in 
full  council,  and  offered  to  provide  'em  with  cloth  for  pantaloons, 
coats  and  jackets,  to  see  the  pervarse  creturs  insist  upon  sticking 
to  their  Tnjin,  heathenish  sort  of  garments.  But,  after  all,  it  is 
an  innovation  on  their  old  habits,  and  I  shall  have  to  begin  by  fit- 
ting up  Eagle's-Wing  with  Christian  clothes,  and  send  him  out  as 
a  missionary  on  that  business. 

"  No  good  for  Injin  to  wear  pale-face  clothes,"  said  the  Tusca- 
rora,  with  contempt.  "How  Injin  look  dressed  like  white 
man?" 

"  There  you  go  !"  exclaimed  Ichabod.  "  Seneca  or  Tuscarora, 
it  don't  make  any  difference.  If  I  was  going  to  convart  the  In- 
jins,  the  first  step  I  should  take,  would  be  to  send  out  a  cargo  q$ 


THE      FRONTIERSMEN  121> 

tailors;  for  I  do  believe  that  if  you  could  only  get  them  to  put 
on  decent  clothes,  they'd  be  willing  to  take  up  a  decent  religion." 

"  That's  a  new  idea,  certainly,"  said  Ruth ;  "  but  I  should  pity 
the  unfortunate  workmen.  They  would  scarcely  make  a  living 
at  the  business." 

"The  idea  is  not  unphilosophical,"  said  Ralph,  laughing. 
"  Ideas  are  very  much  like  clothes.  They  are  just  as  easily  put 
off  or  on ;  and  to  conquer  the  prejudices  of  the  Indians  in  one 
respect,  would  be  to  conquer  them  in  another.  It  is  a  pity,  Icha- 
bod,  that  you  had  not  lived  to  be  a  coadjutor  with  Elliot.  The 
result  of  his  labors  might  have  been  vastly  different." 

"  Well,"  replied  Ichabod,  '*  I  never  did  know  a  new  idea  that 
wasn't  laughed  at.  I  suppose  you  want  to  have  your  fun  at  me, 
but  I'll  live  to  have  mine  at  you,  yet." 

While  the  family  were  at  breakfast,  Sambo  had  been  sent  out 
to  overlook  the  surrounding  country  for  any  signs  of  Indians. 
He  now  came  running  in  to  say  tha*;  a  "  whole  army  of  Injins  was 
coming,  and  no  mistake." 

At  this  alarm,  the  par*"y  at  once  betook  themselves  to  their 
defences ;  and  from  the  lookouts  they  endeavored  to  get  a  sight 
of  the  approaching  enemy. 

"  The  lying  nigger !  "  exclaimed  Ichabod.  "  Only  one  Injiiit 
and  without  we'pons  at  that." 

"  He  is  evidently  coming  with  a  message  of  some  sort  or  other,'' 
said  Barton.  "  Suppose  you  go,  Ralph,  and  hear  what  he  has  to 
say." 

Ralph  went  out  towards  the  grove  where  the  Indian  was  wait- 
ing for  him.  As  he  approached  the  Seneca,  the  latter  took  from 
his  belt  a  letter  and  delivered  it  to  him. 

"  Pale-face  prisoners  send  letter  to  talk,"  said  the  Seneca,  as  he 
surveved  the  document  with  a  sort  of  superstitious  fear.  "  Hear 
him  talk,  eh  ?  " 

"  Perhaps  so."  answered  Ralph.  "  I  will  give  you  an  answer 
soon,  if  it  should  need  one,"  and  he  again  entered  the  cottage, 
while  the  Indian  threw  himself  lazily  upon  the  ground. 

When  Ralph  reached  the  room  where  the  inmates  were  assem- 
bled, much  speculation  was  going  on  as  to  the  probable  contents 
of  the  letter ;  for  its  delivery  to  Ralph  had  been  observed.  It 
was  evident  that  it  must  have  been  written  by  the  attorney ;  and 
it  was  immediately  opened,  and  the  contents  read  aloud  by  Ralph. 
The  letter  ran  thus : 

"  To  Esquire  Barton,  or  to  whomsoever  these  presents  shall 
come,  Greeting: 

"  Sir — I  am  requested  by  that  excellent  but  somewhat  irasci- 
ble chief.  Panther,  to  address  you  a  few  lines — although  I  can 
scarcely  say  that  they  are  written  in  a  professional  capacity.  He 
has  just  advised  me  that  he  holds  the  Deputy  Sheriff  and  myself 
ID  hi9  hands,  as  a  sort  of  equivalent  for  a  certain  Tuscarora  Indian 


130  THE      FRONTIERSMEN.  ^ 

And  his  squaw,  supposed  and  believed  to  be  now  at  the  cottage : 
and  he  has  even  gone  so  far,  though  in  a  very  civil  manner,  as  ti 
inform  me,  that  without  the  said  Indian  and  his  squaw  are  dft^ 
livered  to  him,  he  will  be  under  the  necessity  of  executing  upoii 
us  some  horrid  species  of  capital  punishment,  for  which  I  knov^ 
no  technical  name ;  and  for  which,  I  think,  none  is  to  be  found  idi 
the  most  approved  authorities.  He  has  requested  me,  as  he  him- 
self is  not  skilled  in  clerical  matters,  to  write  this,  and  to  sayj 
that  he  proposes  a  consultation,  at  which  said  matter  shall  be  con^J 
sidered,  and  at  which  shall  be  present,  besides  myself  and  thd 
said  Deputy  Sheriff,  Rogers,  two  of  each  party,  unarmed ;  th^ 
meeting  to  take  place  in  the  grove  south  of  the  cottage.  Thii 
line  is  forwarded  by  the  bearer,  who  is  to  precede  us  by  half 
hour. 

"  Your  most  humble  servant, 

John  Baqsley.*' 
P.  S.  Should  Mr.  Ichabod  Jenkins  be  present  at  the  cottage,! 
I  hope  that  he  will  consider  himself  under  arrest,  although  a 
manual  touching  was  not  actually  made  upon  his  person,  unfor-j 
tunate  circumstances  preventing.  Should  he  decline  to  consid 
er  himself  under  arrest,  I  hope  that  he  may  be  detained  until, 
our  arrival,  and  the  making  of  the  proposed  exchange." 

Ralph  could  not  restrain  his  laughter  as  he  read  this  curious! 
epistle.     The  quiet  confidence  with  which  the  attorney  assumed ' 
that  the  exchange  would  at  once  be  made,  and  the  business-like  I 
appeal  to  Ichabod,  were  sufficiently  provocative  of  a  smile  from] 
all,  except  Ichabod,  who  did  not  seem  to  relish  this    public 
reminder  of  the  unfortunate  result  of  some  of  his  previous  specu- 
lations.    But  it  was  deemed  advisable  to  consent  to  the  meet- 
ing, as  it  was  possible  that  some  result  might  be  arrived  at,  which 
would  terminate  the  present  difficulties. 

Ralph  therefore  informed  the  Seneca  that  they  would  con- 
sent to  treat  with  Panther  on  the  terms  proposed,  at  the  time 
appointed ;  and  the  Indian  at  once  departed  to  convey  the 
answer. 

"'  This  attorney  is  a  strange  man,"  said  Barton :  "  and  he  has 
probably  involved  himself  and  his  companion  in  a  difficulty  from 
which  they  will  not  be  able  to  escape." 

"Who  wants  him  to  escape  ?"  growled  Ichabod,  "A  Seneca 
even,  is  a  gentleman,  compared  with  one  of  those  sneaking  attor- 
neys; and  yet,  perhaps,  it  wouldn't  be  right  not  to  try  to  save 
the  creturs ;  seeing  as  how  they're  human  flesh  and  blood ; 
but  if  we  do  save  'em,  I  suppose  I  must  bid  you  good-bye,  and 
start  for  the  settlements." 

"  Don't  be  discouraged,  Ichabod,"  said  Ralph ;  "  we  shall 
probably  find  some  means  to  relieve  you,  should  you  be  actuftliy 
arrested.    But  the  first  thing  is,  to  get  these  imfortuziate  meo 


THE      FRONTIERSMIV.  181 

from  the  hands  of  the  Senecas.  They  would  seem  to  iuaist,  from 
the  letter,  that  Eagle's- Wing  and  Singing- Bird  should  be  delir- 
ered  up  to  them.  If  no  other  terms  than  these  are  proposed.  Bags- 
ley  and  his  companion  will  have  to  sulfcr  the  penalty  of  their 
temerity.     They  were  well  advised  beforehand." 

''  Dey  lose  scalp :  don't  know  enough  to  keep  'em,"  said 
Eagle's-Wing.  "  What  scalp  good  for,  if  they  don't  know  'nough 
to  keep  Tnjin  from  taking  'era  ?" 

'•It  may  be  a  small  matter  to  you,  Eagle's-Wing,"  said  Bar- 
ton, laughing,  "  but  these  prisoners  would  probably  think  their 
scalps  of  great  importance  to-  themselves.  But  if  I  am  not 
mistaken,  I  see  them  approaching  through  the  grove.  I  would 
suggest  that  Ralph  and  myself  be  selected  for  this  meeting.  You, 
Ichabod,  and  the  Tuscarora,  would  be  too  likely  to  provoke  an 
unfortunate  termination  of  the  matter,  by  the  anger  your  pres- 
-ence  would  excite." 

This  selection  was  agreed  to ;  and  Ralph  and  Barton  walked 
towards  the  grove,  to  the  same  place  where  the  former  consulta- 
tion had  been  held.  As  they  arrived  at  this  spot,  they  saw 
approaching,  at  a  few  rods  distance,  Bagsley  and  the  Deputy 
Sheriff",  who  were  only  bound  by  a  strong  thong  passed  around 
the  left  arm  of  Bagsley  and  the  right  arm  of  Rogers ;  so  that 
they  were  effectually  coupled.  As  Rogers  was  much  taller  than 
the  attorney,  the  confinement  seemed  to  be  equally  irksome  ;  for, 
while  the  attorney  was  compelled  to  walk  in  a  much  more  than 
usually  erect  position,  his  companion  was  compelled  to  stoop 
enough  to  meet  him  half-way.  It  was  a  compromise  that  did 
not  seem  to  have  the  effect  of  pleasing  either,  and  gave  rise  to 
frequent  altercations  between  them ;  the  attorney  insisting  that 
Rogers  did  not  stoop  enough,  and  the  bailiff  swearing  that 
Bagsley  did  not  lift  himself  up  enough,  to  divide  equally  the  dif- 
ficulty. 

They  were  accompanied  by  our  old  acquaintances,  Deersfoot  and 
Snake-tongue,  who  marched  beside  them  with  a  steady  gravity, 
which  no  one  but  an  Indian  could  have  preserved.  When  they 
peached  the  small  plot  of  green-sward,  the  Indians  made  brief  but 
dignified  salutations  to  Barton  and  Ralph,  who  returned  them  in 
as  brief  and  dignified  a  manner.  But  Bagsley  made  an  effort  to 
rush  forward  to  grasp  Barton  by  the  hand,  but  he  was  withheld 
by  the  weight  of  his  more  saturnine  companion. 

*'How  often  am  I  compelled  to  inform  you.  Mi.  Rogers,"  said 
Bagsley  with  irritation,  "  that  the  line  of  conduct  adopted  by 
you.  is  neither  in  accordance  with  courtesy  nor  good  breeding  7 
Could  yon  not  see  that  there  is  a  propriety  in  accosting  our 
friends  with  warmth,  who  are  about  to  relieve  us  from  an 
unpleasant  situation  ?  I  declare,  that  under  no  circumstances, 
will  I  ever  consent  to  be  so  closely  united  with  you  again.  But 
•zoose  mOj  gentlemen.    You  will  pardon  any  seeaung  disrespect, 


183  THE      FRONTIEBSMBN. 

under  the  circumstances,"  casting  a  contemptuous  glance  OY«if 
his  left  shoulder. 

"There's  no  use  in  blowing  up  a  fellow  in  this  fashion/ 
answered  Rogers.     "  You   hang  down  on   me  so,  that  it's  no 
wonder  I  don't  stir  any  more  than  I'm  obliged  to." 

"  Good  day  to  you  both,"  said  Barton.  "I  am  sorry  to  see  you 
in  such  a  situation ;  but  you  will  give  me  the  credit  of  having 
prophesied  such  a  result  to  you." 

"  I  must  say,  that  the  advise  you.  gave  us,  was  not  far  from 
correct,"  answered  Bagsley ;  "  but  I  relied  upon  the  majesty  of 
the  law,  and  the  sanctity  of  our  persons,  as  its  humble  officers, 
as  sufficient  to  protect  us ;  and  I  am  well  convinced,  that  were 
our  red  friends  to  suffer  me  to  instruct  them  in  some  of  its  ele- 
mentary principles,  they  would  see  the  error  of  their  conduct, 
and  discharge  us  with  a  proper  acknowledgment  in  satisfaction 
of  damages.  But  I  am  sorry  to  say,  that  they  have  thus  far 
refused  to  listen  to  instruction  relative  to  a  system  of  jurispru- 
dence, adorned  by  the  writings  of  Bacon  and  Coke,  and  illumined 
and  embellished  by  the  lives  of  Hale  and  Mansfeld,  and  I 

really  wish,  Mr.  Rogers,  that  you  would  suffer  your  person  to 
become  a  little  more  pliable."  This  interruption  was  occasioned 
by  Rogers  having  risen  erect,  in  an  attempt  to  illustrate  the  dig- 
nity of  the  profession  of  which  he  was  an  officer ;  and  the  conse- 
quence was,  that  the  attorney  found  himself  lifted  from  his  feet, 
and  suspended  in  the  air. 

"  I  arn't  to  blame,"  said  Rogers  gruffly,  "  for  your  being  so 
small.     Lay  that  to  them  as  it  belongs  to." 

"  After  the  notice  which  you  have  received,  gentlemen, "  said 
Bagsley,  now  opening  the  business  of  the  meeting,  "  it  cannot  be 
necessary  for  me  to  state  the  object  of  this  consultation.  You 
are  aware  that  Mr.  Rogers  and  myself  have  fallen  into  the  power 
of  our  red  friends,  without  legal  warrant  or  authority  on  their 
part ;  by  which  act,  they  have  undoubtedly  become  liable  to  us 
in  damages.  But  they  allege,  that  they  are  sovereign  in  them- 
selves, and  only  amenable  to  their  own  laws ;  but  as  they  are 
now  in  the  county  of  Tryon,  this  position  is  anomalous,  to  say 
the  least;  it  is  an  establishment  of  an  imperium  in  imperiOf 
which  cannot  exist — as  I  could  substantiate  by  the  authority  of 
the  best  legal  writers.  But,  notwithstanding  such  points  and 
arguments  as  I  have  presented,  and — as  Mr.  Rogers  will  admit, 
with  considerable  force — they  adhere  to  their  first  expressed 
opinion  as  a  poinrces  adjudicata,  and  refuse  to  release  us, 
except  upon  terms.  I  have  the  more  readily  consented  to  those 
terms,  as  I  am  not  called  upon  in  any  way  to  release  our  rights 
of  action  for  damages." 

"  May  I  ask  the  precise  nature  of  the  terms  you  mention  J 
inquired  Ralph. 

"  Of  course,  Captain  Weston ;  that  is  a  proper  subject  of  inquiiy 


TBI      ffiONTIEBSMEV.  183 

The  terms,  in  themselres,  are  easy,  and  I  must  say,  much  easier 
than  could  have  been  expected.  They  are,  that  we  shall  be 
released,  on  the  delivery  to  them  of  a  certain  Indian  and  hia 
squaw,  who  are  somewhere  hereabouts." 

"  I  know  the  Indian  to  whom  you  allude,"  said  Ralph.  "  The 
Stnecas  have  already  endeavored  to  obtain  posession  of  him,  after 
having  grievously  wronged  him  ;  and  we  have  thus  far  defended 
him,  at  the  risk  of  our  lives." 

"  I  know  nothing  about  the  original  difficulty  between  this 
Indian  and  the  Senecas,"  said  Bagsley,  "  but  whatever  it  may 
have  been,  I  think  the  whole  matter  can  now  be  amicably  adjus 
ted,  and  will  be.  You  will  deliver  him  and  his  squaw,  and  receive 
us  in  exchange :  the  Senecas  will  at  once  depart  from  this  terri- 
tory, and  remove  with  them  that  anomaly  in  our  laws  of  which 
I  have  spoken ;  while  we,  having  completed  the  arrest  of  Mr. 
Jenkins,  will  depart  also,  and  the  territory  will  be  quiet  again." 

The  duty  which  devolved  upon  Barton  and  Ralph  was  becom- 
ing exceedingly  unpleasant.  It  was  hard  to  undeceive  the  unfor- 
tunate attorney,  whose  confidence  in  the  exchange  proposed  was 
so  strong.  He  evidently  could  not  realize  that  any  impediment 
could  stand  in  the  way  ;  or  that  Ralph  and  Barton  could  hesitate 
for  a  moment  in  releasing  them  upon  terms  that  seemed  so  easy,- 

"We  have  already  intimated  to  you,  Mr.  Bagsley,"  said  Ralph, 
with  a  seriousness  that  immediately  attracted  the  attention  of  the 
attorney,  "  that  the  Tuscarora  is  our  friend.  He  has  rendered 
Mr.  Barton  and  myself  services  for  which  we  are  deeply  grateful 
to  him." 

"That,  perhaps,  complicates  the  matter,  a  little,"  answered 
Bagsley :  "  a  debt  of  gratitude,  although  not  strictly  a  legal  obli< 
gation.  and  of  a  nature  to  be  enforced  in  a  court  of  law,  (although 
it  will  frequently  support  an  executed  contract  by  way  of  consid- 
eration.) is,  I  must  confess,  exceedingly  hard  to  be  rid  of;  and 
perhaps  one  would  not  be  justifiable  in  repudiating  it  upon  light 
occasions  ;  but  the  question  here  presents  itself  in  this  manner ; 
a  debt  of  gratitude  upon  the  one  side,  which,  I  have  observed,  is 
not  actionable,  and  the  lives  of  two  gentlemen  of  the  professio 
on  the  other.  The  preponderance  of  argument  is  so  obvious,  tha 
I  should  be  wasting  time  in  calling  your  attention  to  it." 

"  There  is  an  addition  to  the  argument,  upon  what  you. deem 
the  weaker  side,  that  you  have  forgotten  to  mention — that  is,  the 
lives  of  our  friends,  whom  you  ask  us  to  surrender." 

"  That  was  not  a  matter  unthought-of,"  said  Bagsley,  with 
complacency  :  "  it  was  merely  a  point  reserved.  I  cannot  bring 
myself  to  believe  that  our  red  friends  would  carry  matters  to  the 
extremity  which  they  have  threatened.  It  was  probably  only 
one  of  those  pardonable  subterfuges  by  which  we  endeavor,  in 
the  profession,  to  bring  parties  to  terms— a  matter  merely  hel4 
ap  in  terroremJ^ 


134  THK      FR0NTIEB3MEK. 

"I  hope,"  «aid  Ralph,  who  was  determined  to  imdeceir©  th« 
attorney  at  once,  "  that  it  may  be  as  you  say  ;  but  neither  Mr. 
Barton  nor  myself,  however  unpleasant  to  you  or  ourselves  such 
a  determination  may  be,  can  think,  for  a  moment,  of  surrendering 
the  Tuscarora  into  the  hands  of  enemies  who  are  thirsting  for 
his  blood." 

This  announcement,  made  in  a  firm  tone,  but  with  a  look  that 
indicated  the  sorrow  with  which  it  was  made,  struck  the  attorney 
with  surprise  and  fear.    A  mortal  pallor  overspread  his  features. 

"  You  do  not  mean,  Captain  Weston — you  cannot  mean,  Mr. 
Barton,  that  you  will  not  release  us  1 " 

"  Anything  that  we  can  do,  except  the  surrender  of  any  of 
our  friends  into  the  hands  of  the  Senecas.  we  will  cheerfully, 
gladly  do.  But  that,  you  will  yourself  see — however  unpleasant 
it  may  be  to  you,  to  acknowledge  it — we  cannot  do." 

"  My  God !  my  God !  "  exclaimed  Bagsley,  forgetting,  in  his 
fear,  his  professional  character,  "  what  shall  we  do  ?" 

"  I  consider  it  rather  hard  fare,"  said  Rogers,  who  being  of  a 
more  saturnine  temperament  than  the  attorney,  was  not  so 
susceptible  to  sudden  emotions.  "  If  two  white  men,  and  pro- 
fessional gentlemen  to  boot,  arn't  reckoned  of  any  more  con- 
sequence than  a  couple  of  wild  Injins,  what's  the  use  of  being 
white  folks,  I'd  like  to  know  1 " 

Deersfoot  and  Snake-tongue,  who  had  thus  far  preserved  a  per- 
fect silence,  now  advanced  to  take  part  in  the  conversation : 

"  My  brothers  know,"  said  Deersfoot,  "  that  they  must  give  us 
Canendesha  and  his  squaw,  or  these  pale-faces  must  die.  W© 
have  spoken,  and  so  it  must  be." 

"  Deersfoot,"  said  Barton,  "  I  cannot  believe  that  you  will  put 
them  to  death.  You  are  now  at  peace  with  the  Colonies.  These 
men  have  done  you  no  harm.  Even  if  you  have  cause  for  anger 
with  us,  these  men  are  innocent.  It  would  be  a  murder,  for  which 
the  Colonists  would  take  ample  revenge  in  burning  your  villages 
and  destroying  your  people." 

"  They  are  pale-faces,  and  that  is  all  we  know.  If  one  pale- 
face does  us  harm,  we  will  hurt  all  the  pale-faces  we  can.  We 
have  buried  the  hatchet  with  the  Colonies,  and  we  will  not  dig 
it  up.  We  are  not  on  a  war-path ;  but  if  we  are  injured,  wt 
will  do  what  hurt  we  can.     I  have  spoken." 

"  If  you  do  any  harm  to  these  men,"  said  Ralph,  we  will  pun- 
ish you,  if  we  have  to  follow  you  to  your  own  country.  There 
are  men  at  the  settlements  who  will  take  up  this  quarrel." 

"  Let  the  pale-faces  take  care  of  themselves,"  said  Snake- 
tongue.  "  They  may  boast  less,  by-and-by.  We  do  not  boast, 
but  we  will  do  what  we  can.     Our  talk  is  finished.     Let  us  go." 

Deersfoot  advanced  towards  the  attorney,  who  remained  as  if 
■tupified.  "  Come  I"  said  he,  laying  his  hand  upon  him.  Tli» 
bttorney  shrieked  with  fear. 


THE      FRONTISRSMIir.  1S5 

**  For  Heavin's  sake,  Captain  Weston — Mr.  Barton,  do  not  let 
these  Indians  take  us  back  again." 

"  We  pity  you,  unfortunate  men ;  but  we  cannot  help  yoa. 
We  wish  we  could,"  exclaimed  Barton. 

At  this  moment,  Ichabod  and  the  Tuscarora  were  seen  issuing 
from  the  door  of  the  cottage,  with  their  rifles  in  their  hands. 
Their  faces  expressed  a  determination  that  was  unmistakable  • 
but  at  the  same  instant,  a  body  of  Indians  was  seen  ap- 
proaching at  the  opposite  extremity  of  the  grove.  The  Indiana 
had  evidently  foreseen  this  result  of  the  consultation,  and  were 
now  approaching  on  some  mischievous  errand.  Barton  and 
Ralph  immediately  departed  towards  the  cottage,  into  which 
Ichabod  and  the  Tuscarora  also  retired,  while  the  attorney  and 
his  companion  departed  in  the  opposite  direction,  under  guard  of 
the  Senecas. 


CHAPTER    XVIII. 

"  And  long  shall  timorous  Fancy  see 
The  painted  chief  and  pointed  spear  t 
And  Reason's  self  shall  bow  the  knee 
To  shadows  and  delusions  here. 

FSIBTBAV. 

DEERsrooT  and  Snake-tongue,  with  the  two  prisoners,  after  • 
short  distance,  met  the  main  body  of  the  Senecas.  Beyond  the 
grove  was  a  small  strip  of  partially  cleared  land,  which  was 
covered  with  a  thick  green-sward.  Here  the  Indians  halted,  and 
immediately  held  a  council,  in  which  to  deliberate  upon  the  fate 
of  their  prisoners,  and  upon  their  future  proceedings  with  refer- 
ence to  the  cottage.  When  the  failure  of  the  negotiation  was 
announced,  the  whole  wrath  of  the  Indians  was  concentrated 
upon  the  unfortunate  attorney  and  his  companioa.  In  their  eyes, 
the  latter  were  answerable  for  all  the  wrongs  which  they  fancied 
they  had  suffered  from  the  pale-faces  and  their  Tuscarora  ally  at 
the  cottage. 

Bagsley  and  the  bailiff  were  placed  in  the  centre  of  a  circle  of 
warriors.  Rogers  maintained  a  sullen  silence,  and  surveyed  the 
hostile  countenances  of  the  Senecas  with  a  look  of  seeming  indif- 
ference ;  but  the  attorney,  trom  the  moment  that  the  unexpected 
refusal  of  Barton  and  Ralph  to  exchange  him  for  the  Tuscarora 
had  shown  him  his  imminent  danger,  remained  seemingly  stupi- 
fied  with  ilear.  But.  as  he  beheld  around  him  the  assemblage  of 
warriors,  and  a  certain  appearance  of  deliberation,  he  began  to 
recover  the  use  of  his  faculties.  Perhaps  he  thought  that  tbt 
•ot  of  deliberation  implied  a  doubt  of  their  actual  inteution ;  0K| 


116  THI      FR0NTISR8MI17. 

perhaps,  seeing  that  he  might  have  an  opportunity  to  pi  A  for 
his  life,  he  placed  some  reliance  upon  his  oratorical  powers.  But, 
whatever  was  the  cause,  it  is  certam  that,  in  his  appearance,  he 
resumed  a  portion  of  his  professional  dignity  of  demeanor. 

The  warriors  and  their  chiefs  were  assembled  in  council. 
Panther,  as  principal  chief,  occupied  the  most  prominent  situa- 
tion ;  beside  him  sat  Deersfoot  and  Snake-tongue,  and  two  or 
three  others,  who  were  recognized  as  superior  to  the  great  mass 
of  the  Indians.  When  the  assembly  had  jBnally  assumed  an 
appearance  of  order,  the  younger  chief,  whose  name  was  Bears- 
claw,  arose  to  speak.  He  had  never  yet  gained  a  reputation  for 
oratory,  and  he  assumed  a  modesty  and  humiliation  that  were 
proper  to  his  station. 

"  Brothers,"  said  he,  "  you  know  my  name — it  is  Bearsclaw  ; 
it  is  a  name  which  was  given  to  me  because  I  was  thought  to  be 
strong  in  struggling  with  my  enemy.  I  did  not  deserve  it :  I 
should  have  had  a  smaller  name.  I  have  not  the  tongue  to  speak  j 
but  I  can  tell  what  I  think — I  think  these  pale-faces  should  live, 
I  think  that  we  should  keep  them  prisoners  a  little  while,  and 
then  let  them  go.  Shall  I  tell  you  why  7  They  came  to  us 
freely ;  we  did  not  take  them  !  they  have  not  wronged  us.  Per- 
haps I  do  not  think  right ;  I  do  not  know  but  a  little ;  but  what 
I  think  I  will  speak.  I  see  that  you  do  not  like  my  words,  and  I 
am  sorry  that  you  do  not.  If  we  kill  them,  we  shall  get  into 
trouble.  The  pale-faces  from  the  settlements  will  come  out  on 
the  war-path,  and  will  ravage  our  hunting  grounds.  I  am  not  a 
coward — you  have  seen  me  in  fight.  My  name  is  Bearsclaw. 
I  cannot  speak  much ;  but  I  can  tell  what  I  think.  I  have 
spoken." 

This  speech  was  received  in  silence — a  silence,  perhaps,  that 
implied  dissatisfaction.  But  Bagsley  argued  from  it  a  favorable 
result ;  for  he  thought  a  matter  could  not  be  predetermined, 
about  which  a  chief  had  spoken,  as  if  there  was  doubt  as  to  the 
propriety  of  the  course  that  had  been  threatened.  "When  Bears- 
claw sat  down,  Snake-tongue,  as  the  chief  next  highest  in  rank, 
arose  and  said : 

"  Brothers,  you  have  heard  the  counsel  of  Bearsclaw :  he  has 
a  large  name.  It  is  a  great  pity  that  a  warrior  with  so  brave  a 
name,  cannot  be  brave  in  speech.  I  do  not  think  as  he  does. 
I  am  an  Iroquois — of  the  nation  of  the  Senecas.  I  have  always 
been  taught  not  to  be  afraid.  Bearsclaw  has  said  that  the  pale- 
faces from  the  settlements  will  follow  us  on  the  war-path.  Let 
them  come !  We  want  to  see  them  in  the  woods  and  fields.  We 
do  not  want  to  see  them  skulking  behind  walls  and  log  houses. 
Let  them  follow  us  into  the  woods:  there  is  where  I  want  to 
see  them. 

•'  I  say  that  these  pale-faces  should  die.  They  have  been  the 
esase  of  all  our  troubles.    If  it  had  not  been  for  their  fire-wat^ 


■i' 


THE      FRONTIERSMEN.  13T 

iO'day  we  should  have  tortured  the  brave  that  we  tortured  yes- 
terday. He  was  a  brave  warrior,  and  it  would  have  done  us  good 
to  have  tortured  him.  But  he  escaped ;  and  how  ?  The  fire- 
water of  these  pale-faces  made  our  young  warriors  careless,  and 
we  lost  him ;  and  we  lost  the  pale-face  squaw,  and  the  squaw  of 
Canendesha.  We  have  lost,  too,  our  pale-face  friend ;  he  has 
gone,  and  no  one  knows  where.  He  was  lost  at  the  same  time 
with  the  others.  They  have  taken  him  and  killed  him.  Should 
we  let  the  pale-faces,  who  have  done  all  this,  go  and  laugh  at  us  ? 
No — let  them  die !  They  are  not  as  brave  as  the  warrior  we 
had  yesterday ;  but  they  will  make  sport  for  our  young  war- 
riors. We  shall  be  sorry  if  we  do  not  take  their  scalps.  We 
shall  always  think  of  it,  and  wish  we  had  done  it,  when  we  think 
of  our  young  men  who  have  been  killed  in  these  forests.  I  have 
spoken." 

He  sat  down  amidst  loud  cheers.  He  was  evidently  on  the 
popular  side ;  and  the  countenances  of  Bagsley  and  Rogers  grew 
pale,  as  they  saw  the  effect  of  this  speech.  But  there  was  some 
hope  yet ;  only  two  of  the  warriors  had  spoken,  and,  so  far,  the 
council  was  equally  divided  in  opinion.  It  was  with  the  utmost 
anxiety  that  they  waited  for  Deersfoot  to  arise. 

After  the  noise  had  subsided,  and  silence  was  restored,  the 
latter  arose  to  speak.  He  stood  next  to  Panther  in  the  estimar 
tion  of  the  Senecas ;  and  some  there  were,  who  preferred  him  to 
that  chief,  as  a  braver  and  more  cunning  warrior. 

"  Brothers,"  he  said  in  a  tranquil  tone,  "  we  have  come  here 
to  decide  upon  two  things.  We  are  to  say  whether  these  pale- 
faces shall  die,  and  we  are  to  say  what  we  shall  do  about  the 
pale-faces  at  the  cottage.  I  have  no  secrets ;  my  heart  is  as  open 
as  my  face.  Snake-tongue  has  said  that  these  pale-faces  are  the 
cause  of  all  of  our  troubles.  May  be  this  is  so  ;  but  I  do  not 
see  it  as  he  does.  Our  young  men  should  not  love  the  fire-water 
of  the  pale-faces.  If  they  had  not  loved  it,  then  the  pale-faces 
could  not  have  done  us  any  harm.  I  do  not  know  that  they  are 
to  be  blamed.    I  want  to  think  about  it  a  little  while. 

"  But  the  other  thing  I  have  thought  about.  I  do  not  want  to 
think  any  more  about  it.  The  pale-faces  at  the  cottage  have 
killed  our  young  men.  They  have  made  us  ashamed,  that  so 
few  pale-faces  can  escape  from  so  many  Injins.  I  am  so 
ashamed  that  my  heart  is  sad;  and  it  will  not  be  happy  any 
more  until  we  have  taken  their  scalps.  I  wish  to  fight  them 
again.  I  wish  to  see  if  we  cannot  burn  down  the  cottage,  and 
take  them  all  prisoners.  I  am  sure  that  we  can  do  it.  If  we 
cannot,  I  shall  be  much  more  ashamed :  and  I  shall  think  that 
the  Senecas,  like  the  Oneidas  and  Tuscaroras,  are  squaws.  L, 
for  one  will  never  leave  the  valley  of  the  Pleasant  River,  until  I 
take  with  me,  the  scalp  of  one  of  those  pale-faces  The  scalps  oi 
these  pale-faces  will  not  do  me  any  good ;  for  they  have  not 


13S  TBE      FRONTIESSMEir. 

killed  our  young  men.  I  want  to  wear  in  my  belt  the  scalp  of 
the  enemy  who  has  taken  the  scalp  of  a  Seneca.  Until  that  if 
done,  I  shall  always  be  ashamed. 

"  Let  these  pale-faces  live  until  we  have  attacked  the  cottage. 
If  we  take  the  scalps  of  our  enemies  there,  we  shall  have  taken 
enough  ;  and  we  shall  not  want  any  more.  If  we  do  not  get 
them,  then  we  will  think  about  these  pale-faces.     I  have  spoken." 

This  speech,  which  had  touched  the  hearts  of  the  Senecas  with 
shame,  and  kindled  in  them  a  wild  hope  of  revenge,  was  received 
with  shrieks  of  delight.  In  the  direction  which  it  had  given  to 
the  thoughts  of  the  Senecas,  the  prisoners  were,  for  the  moment, 
forgotten ;  and  the  counsel  of  Deersfoot  would  doubtless  have 
been  acquiesced  in,  had  it  not  been  for  the  fact  that  Panther  did 
not  share  the  general  enthusiasm.  When  this  was  noticed, 
his  more  particular  adherents  at  once  become  silent,  and  waited 
to  take  their  cue  from  him.  He  was  about  to  arise,  when 
Bagsley,  who  had  also  become  much  excited  by  this  appeal  of 
Deersfoot,  in  his  favor,  and  who  was  unable  any  longer  to  main- 
tain silence,  deeming  this  the  favorable  moment  to  make  a  finish 
of  the  "  case,"  exclaimed,  assuming  as  much  of  a  forensic  posi- 
tion and  demeanor,  as  his  connection  with  Rogers  would  allow : 

"  If  the  Court  please,  gentlemen  of  the — Council ;  for  I  may 
denominate  this  respectable  body,  a  Court,  while  it  is  actually 
sitting  in  banco,  according  to  the  peculiar  laws  by  which  it  is 
governed — I  have  listened  thus  far,  to  this  summary  trial — a  trial 
which,  I  may  say,  is  unrecognized  by  any  statute  of  which  I  am 
cognizant — with  a  high  opinion  of  the  ability  and  learning  with 
which  it  has  been  conducted.  But,  as  a  prisoner  on  trial  for  his 
life,  I  respectfully  submit,  whether  I  have  not  the  right  to  ask 
that  this  trial  shall  be  conducted  according  to  some  recognised 
form.  I  have  as  yet  seen  no  bill  of  indictment ;  I  have  not  been 
called  upon  to  plead  ;  in  other  words,  I  have  not  had  the  privilege 
of  alleging  my  innocence  upon  the  record  *,  I  have  not  been 
confronted  with  witnesses — therefore,  in  a  legal  point  of  view,  I 
may  consider  this  whole  proceeding  as  coram  non  judice  and 
Toid,  and  of  no  binding  force  whatever.  According  to  the  law  of 
the  land,  as  generally  understood,  I  am  entitled  to  all  of  these 
rights.  I,  therefore,  upon  these  grounds,  to  say  nothing  about 
many  other  points  which  I  consider  equally  conclusive,  wish  to 
raise  the  question  of  jurisdiction.  I  could,  doubtless,  make  a 
motion  in  arrest  of  judgment,  non  obstante  veredicto ;  but  a 
question  of  jurisdiction  can  be  interposed  at  any  time.  I  there- 
fore respectfully  submit,  whether,  according  to  the  advice  of  my 
friend,  Deersfoot,  a  nolle  prosequi  should  not  be  entered." 

"  Bearsclaw  has  presented  the  case  upon  somewhat  different 
grounds,  but  he  arrives  at  the  same  conclusions.  He  alleges  that 
we  are  guilty  of  no  offence.  He  is  correct,  not  only  in  fact,  but 
Ag  matter  of  law.    It  is  a  principle  of  the  law,  originating  in  a 


THE      FRONTIERSMEN.  139 

benevolent  idea  of  mercy,  that  a  prisoner  is  to  be  presumed  inno- 
cent until  he  is  proved  g^uiltv.  I  rely  upon  this  principle,  and  I 
hope  the  court  will  make  a  note  of  it.  On  examination,  it  will 
be  found  to  be  a  principle  admirably  adapted  to  Indian  jurispru- 
dence. Upon  all  of  these  grounds,  I  insist  that  Mr.  Rogers  and 
myself  should  be  discharged." 

At  the  conclusion  of  this  speech,  Rogers,  who  had  listened  with 
great  pleasure,  and  who  had  a  high  idea  of  his  friend's  eloquence 
exclaimed  with  a  gesture  that  lifted  the  attorney  at  least  a  foot 
from  the  ground,  "  Them's  my  sentiments,  and  they  are  good  law 
anywhere," 

The  Indians  had  listened  to  this  voluble  speech  of  the  attor- 
ney with  mingled  feelings  of  amazement  and  disgust.  They 
could  comprehend  scarcely  a  word  of  the  discourse,  but  its  gen- 
eral tenor  they  understood ;  and  that  was,  that  he  was  begging 
for  his  life.  If  the«e  is  anything  in  the  conduct  of  a  prisoner 
which  removes  from  an  Indian  all  idea  of  mercy,  it  is  an  exhibi- 
tion of  cowardice,  or  a  desire  to  escape  torture,  except  by  force  or 
stratagem.  The  current  which  had  set  in  their  favor,  on  the 
conclusion  of  Deersfoot's  speech,  was  effectually  checked;  and  all 
that  was  now  wanting,  was  Panther's  approval,  to  decide  them 
in  favor  of  putting  the  prisoners  to  immediate  torture. 

Panther  arose,  and  the  assembly  immediately  became  silent. 

"  Brothers,"  said  he,  "  you  have  heard  the  words  which  have 
been  spoken  to  you.  It  is  for  you  to  say  which  are  wise,  and 
which  are  fooiish.  Bearsclaw,  Snake-tongue  and  Deersfcot  have 
All  told  you  what  they  think.  The  pale-faces,  too,  have  spoken 
JO  you.  You  have  heard  their  words.  I  think  with  Deersfoot, 
ohat  we  must  have  the  scalps  of  the  pale-faces  at  the  cottage,  and 
the  scalp  of  Canendesha.  There  is  no  warrior  here  that  does  not 
say  so.  We  have  thought  so  from  the  first.  It  was  not  a  new 
thing  with  Deersfoot ;  you  have  all  thought  so.  That  is  not  the 
matter  we  have  come  here  to  talk  about.  We  should  be  ashamed 
to  talk  about  it.     We  know  what  we  will  do. 

"  I  say  let  these  pale-faces  die.  They  do  not  deserve  to  live. 
They  are  bad  men — they  are  bad  even  among  the  pale-faces,  and 
the  pale-faces  hate  them.  They  are  like  snakes,  and  have  forked 
tongues ;  they  do  not  tell  what  they  think.  They  lie  in  the  grass, 
and  bite  at  the  foot  of  the  unwary.  Even  the  pale-faces  hate 
them  ;  but  they  are  worse  to  the  Injins  than  they  are  to  the  pale- 
faces ;  for  they  steal  away  our  hunting-grounds.  Why  should 
we  let  them  loose  to  lie  like  snakes  in  the  grass  and  bite  at  us? 
Bearsclaw  says  that  they  came  to  us,  and  that  we  did  not  take 
them  on  the  war-path.  That  is  true  ;  but  they  came  to  us  with 
forked  tongues,  to  get  away  our  prisoner  ;  and  I  do  not  know  but 
that  they  did  get  him  away.     They  came,  and  he  is  gone. 

"  If  we  keep  them  prisoners,  we  shall  have  to  set  some  of  tk« 
warriors  to  watch  them.    That  we  ought  not  to  do ;  for  we  sb^M 


kh 


140  TBI      FRONTIERSMKN. 

want  all  of  our  warriors  to-night.  I  have  said  more  than  I 
meant  to  say.  They  are  not  worth  talking  about ;  they  are  not 
braves  that  will  laugh  at  the  torture,  and  please  our  ears  with 
harsh  words.  They  are  cowards  that  will  cry  and  faint.  Such 
men  are  not  fit  to  live.     Let  the  pale-faces  die." 

This  conclusion  was  received  by  the  Senecas  with  shouts  of 
savage  exultation.  The  unfortunate  prisoners  quailed  beneath 
the  fiery  glances  of  their  enemies.  The'  attorney  endeavored  to 
speak,  but  his  utterance  failed — fear  deprived  him  of  the  power 
of  speech.  The  bailiff,  however,  as  the  danger  actually  ap- 
proached, grew  firm  and  brave,  and  looked  at  them  with  that 
peculiar  gaze  with  which  the  officer  looks  into  the  eyes  of  the 
thief. 

The  Senecas  approached  them  for  the  purpose  of  preparing 
them  for  the  torture. 

"  Stand  back,  you  rascals  I"  cried  the  bailiff.  "  You  are  now 
in  my  bailiwick.  Look  me  in  the  eyes,  if  you  dare,  and  see  if 
you  can  stand  the  gaze  of  the  law." 

But  notwithstanding  this  effort  at  overawing  them,  the  Indians 
rudely  tore  apart  the  thongs  that  bound  the  attorney  and  the 
bailiff  together,  and  dragged  them  into  the  woods  south  of  the 
little  clearing  in  which  they  were. 

We  shall  not  attempt  to  narrate  the  disgusting  and  horrible 
scene ;  but  on  that  day.  the  bar  of  Tryon  county  lost  a  dis- 
tinguished member,  and  that  bailiwick  a  faithful  officer. 

While  these  scenes  of  savage  cruelty  are  being  enacted,  let  U3 
return  to  the  cottage.  The  presence  of  the  Indians  in  their 
neighborhood,  was  known  to  the  inmates  of  the  cottage;  for, 
occasionally,  during  the  council,  the  ferocious  yells  which  had 
cheered  the  "  hit"  of  some  favorite  orator,  had  been  heard  with 
distinctness.  Neither  Ichabod,  Eagle's-Wing,  nor  any  one  who 
was  acquainted  with  the  customs  and  habits  of  the  Indians, 
could  doubt  as  to  the  nature  of  the  proceedings,  of  which  they 
heard  frequent  indications.  It  was  rendered  certain,  by  the  fact 
that  the  Indians  were  about  to  take  the  lives  of  the  prisoners, 
that  the  cottage  would  be  again  attacked. 

"  With  us  five  inside  here,"  said  Ichabod,  "  I'd  risk  all  the 
Injins  this  side  of  Tophet — provided  they  didn't  set  down  in 
reg'lar  siege,  or  set  the  buildings  afire.  I  reckon  that  last 
remark  of  mine  will  fe-e  found  to  be  a  pretty  good  guess,  as  to 
the  worst  danger  we  shall  run  in  this  attack." 

'-  Other  time,  Seneca  want  prisoner,"  said  the  Tuscarora. 
"  Didn't  want  pale-face  scalp,  half  so  bad  as  now.  They  take 
*em  to-night,  if  they  can." 

"  I  think,"  said  Ralph,  "  we  can  guard  against  danger  by  fire ; 
but,  nevertheless,  we  should  not  be  so  certain  of  it  as  to  neglect 
any  proper  precautions.  The  wooden  portions  of  the  building  are 
T«ry  dry  and  if  the  Indians  can  get  fire  upon  the  roo^  we  shall. 


TRK      rBONTIERSMIV.  141 

fcdeed,  run  a  serious  danger,  for  we  could  not  show  ourselvet 
upon  the  outside,  without  presenting  fair  marks  for  every  Indian 
rifle." 

"  The  house  is  we"  provided  with  water,"  said  Barton.     " 
have  a  large  cistern,  which  is  supplied  by  an  unfailing  stream 
that  comes  down  from  the  west." 

"  Yes,  but  the  question  is,"  said  Ichabod,  "  how  we're  going 
to  get  the  water  upon  the  roof,  in  case  of  necessity  ?  The  diffi- 
culty, in  that  business,  has  been  stated  by  the  Captin.  Now,  I've 
got  an  idea  about  managing  the  matter,  if  it  comes  to  the  worst ; 
and  that  is,  to  leave  the  cottage,  and  take  to  the  water." 

This  idea  took,  the  whole  party  by  surprise;  and  Barton,  with 
a  look  of  incredulity,  asked  Ichabod  how  he  supposed  they 
should  be  able  to  leave  the  burning  building  without  being  ex- 
posed to  the  watchful  e)^es  of  the  Indians. 

"  That's  the  p'int,  Squire,  that  I've  been  thinking  about ;  and 
Eagle's-Wing  and  I  have  been  talking  it  over,  and  you'll  see 
we'll  manage  it,  in  case  of  necessity.  It's  rayther  risky,  sartin ; 
but  I  calculate  it  ain't  any  more  so  than  it  would  be  to  stay  here, 
and  be  burnt  up.  The  best  calculations  will  fail  sometimes,  in 
war,  as  well  as  in  business  matters :  but  if  them  Injins  should 
drive  us  to  it,  they'll  have  to  show  more  cunning  than  the  sar- 
pints  have  yet  shown,  to  keep  our  plan  from  working." 

The  manner  of  the  escape — should  it  be  necessary — with  as 
many  of  the  details  as  could  be  anticipated,  were  agreed  upon 
and  arranged.  Any  such  anticipation  was  sufficiently  melan- 
choly, as,  if  they  were  driven  from  the  cottage,  they  would  be 
much  more  exposed  to  the  danger  of  capture  than  they  had  yet 
been.  On  the  conclusion  of  these  arrangements,  Ralph  found 
himself  by  the  side  of  Ruth,  who  seemed  to  be  suffering  a  great 
depression  of  spirits,  from  the  saddening  forebodings  which  she 
had  overheard.  She  had  become  attached  to  her  quiet  home — 
she  had  acquired  a  fondness  for  the  objects  by  which  she  was 
surrounded ;  and  she  could  not  think  of  their  destruction,  with- 
out a  feeling  of  exquisite  sorrow. 

"  If  such  be  the  will  of  Heaven,"  she  said  to  Ralph,  "  we  must 
submit." 

"  It  is  but  an  anticipation.  Ruth,  against  which  we  must  guard. 
We  may  succeed  in  repelling  this  attack,  as  easily  as  we  did  the 
former.  But  it  is  not  to  be  disguised,  that  while  on  the  previous 
attack,  the  great  object  of  the  enmity  of  the  Indians  was  the 
Tuscarora ;  now,  we  as  well  as  he  are  the  objects ;  and  they  will 
resort  to  the  method  we  have  anticipated,  if  possible." 

"  Would  it  not  be  better  to  escape  at  once  ?  We  could  leave 
the  cottage,  now,  without  danger ;  but  during  the  attack,  it  seems 
to  me  it  will  be  impossible  to  do  so." 

"  We  should  then  certainly  abandon  the  cottage  to  destructioii, 
Qod  encounter  dangers  that  now  are  only  possible  and  not  oei* 


MM 


142  THE      FRONTIERSMEN. 

torn.  No,  I  am  willing  to  trust  to  the  plan  suggested  by  Ichabod 
and  Eagle's-Wing.  Although  they  have  not  given  us  the  full 
details  of  it,  I  think  I  understand  it.  We  have,  thus  far,  been 
signally  successful,  and  let  us  rely  upon  our  good  fortune  a  little 
farther." 

"  Say,  rather,  Ralph,  upon  God,  It  is  His  power,  only,  that 
supports  and  protects  us." 

Ralph  at  once  admitted  the  propriety  of  the  correction.  "  In 
affairs  of  the  world,  we  use  worldly  terms.  We  speak  of  the 
protection  we  receive  from  our  good  fortune,  without  intending 
to  imply  any  doubt  of  the  protection  which  we  receive  from 
Heaven." 

'*  Would  it  not  be  better,  Ralph,  at  all  times  to  acknowledge, 
by  a  proper  use  of  words,  our  dependence  upon  Him  from  whom 
good  or  bad  fortune  proceeds,  than  only  to  acknowledge  the 
results  of  circumstances?" 

"  I  do  not  doubt  it.  Let  us  rely  upon  His  assistance,  then," 
said  Ralph.     "  We  shall  certainly  need  it,  to-night." 

The  sun  was  already  sinking  behind  the  western  hills,  into  a 
rich  mass  of  crimson  clouds.  The  night  approached  with  a  mel- 
ancholy step,  and  every  heart  in  the  cottage  beat  with  anxiety 
for  the  first  sound  that  should  indicate  the  presence  of  the 
enemy.  The  aspect  of  nature  was  calm  and  lovely.  The  setting 
sun  wore  the  look  of  yesterday  ;  familiar  objects  gazed  brightly 
in  the  golden  garments  which  were  woven  around  them ;  the 
long  shadows  pointed  eastward,  towards  the  coming  to-morrow. 
But  who  can  foretell,  from  the  look  of  this  day,  what  shall  b« 
the  appearance  of  the  next  ? 


^♦»- 


CHAPTER    XIX. 

"  Ah !  whence  yon  glare, 
That  fires  the  arch  of  heaven  1 — that  dark-red  smoke, 
Blottmg  the  silver  moon  7" 

Shkllbt. 

An  HOUR  had  passed,  and  yet  there  were  no  indications  of 
an  attack.  The  inmatss  of  the  cottage  had  taken  their  places  as 
on  the  night  of  the  previous  conflict ;  and,  with  all  their  sensea 
upon  the  alert,  endeavored  to  detect  the  approach  of  an  enemy, 
from  whom  so  much  was  to  be  feared.  Ruth  and  Singing-Bird 
had  both  taken  positions  by  the  loop-holes,  and  without  strenu- 
ous objection  ;  for,  on  a  night  that  threatened  to  be  so  danger- 
ous, they,  even,  might  render  important  resistance.  Another  hour 
passed.  Was  it  possible  that  the  Indians,  satisfied  with  the 
liTes  of  their  two  unfortunate  prisoners,  had  abandoned  the  idea 


TBI      FR0NTIEBSMB9.  143 

©f  again  attacking  the  cottage?  This  query  presented  itself  to 
the  mind  of  more  than  one  of  the  little  garrison ;  and  it  was  with 
a  pleasant  thrill  of  hope,  that  the  idea  first  occurred  to  the  mind 
of  Ruth.  Even  Ichabod,  with  all  his  experience  in  Indian  char- 
acter, suggested  to  Eagle's- Wing  the  possibility  that  such  a  hope 
might  be  well-founded. 

'•No,"  was  the  answer;  ''don't  know  Injins  if  you  think  so. 
They  come,  sartin,  by'mby.  Panther  cunning  Injin.  He  mean 
to  get  cottage  to-night,  any  way — that  what  it  means." 

'•  Do  you  suppose,  Eagle's- Wing,  that  they're  anywhere  rouiKi 
here  now '?"  asked  Ichabod.  more  to  hear  what  his  friend  would 
answer,  than  for  any  other  purpose. 

"  Guess  so  ;  guess  that  ravine/z<Z/  of  Injins.  Hear  'em,  by'mby. 
They  won't  yell  nor  shoot.  Know  that  don't  do  any  good.  Can't 
shoot  through  logs ;  that  they  kjow." 

"  I  reckon  you're  about  right,  Eagle's-Wing.  They  want  to 
put  us  off  our  guard ;  and  by-and-by  some  miscreant  will  try  to 
Bet  us  afire.  But  if  we  watch,  we  can  prevent  that ;  they  can't 
carry  fire  without  our  seeing  it." 

"  Don't  know  that.  Little  spark  make  great  fire,  sometime. 
Hide  little  spark  pretty  well,  if  they  try." 

The  night  had  now  become  dark ;  the  sky  was  partly  ob- 
scured by  clouds — suflBciently  so  to  render  it  extremely  difficult 
to  discern  objects  no  larger  than  the  size  of  a  man,  at  even  a  rod's 
distance.  But  while  the  darkness  would  allow  the  Indians  to  ap- 
proach nearer  the  building  with  less  chance  of  detection,  it  would 
also  render  it  more  difficult  for  them  to  conceal  any  attempt  to 
set  the  cottage  on  fire. 

Two,  three,  or  even  four  hours,  might  elapse  ere  any  demon- 
stration on  the  part  of  the  Senecas  would  be  made.  This  uncer- 
tainty, united  with  the  darkness  and  silence  which  reigned  both 
within  and  without,  tasked  the  spirits  of  the  defenders  more  than 
any  open  attack  would  have  done.  No  anxiety  is  more  over- 
powering than  that  of  awaiting  an  event  the  coming  of  which  is 
to  be  dreaded,  and  yet  which  will  certainly  arrive.  In  the 
whole  range  of  catastrophes  to  which  mankind  are  subject,  there 
is,  perhaps,  but  one  important  exception  to  this  remark,  and  that 
is  the  great  catastrophe  to  which  each  individual  of  the  human 
family  is  subject,  which  is  certain  to  arrive,  and  which  is  univer- 
sally dreaded.  It  may  arrive  soon  or  late — no  one  knows  when, 
or  how  it  will  come ;  yet  the  anxiety  incident  to  that  event,  is 
sasily  overcome  ;  and  one  by  one,  a  generation  passes  away,  each 
one  knowing  well  his  doom,  yet  neglecting  the  least  preparation. 

This  anxiety  at  length  became  so  irksome,  that  a  desultory 
conversation  sprung  up  between  the  different  individuals  of  the 
party — yet,  without  any  cessation  of  watchfulness,  Ichabod,  who 
had  remained  silent  sin/ie  the  last  reply  of  Eagle's-Wing,  now 
agaia  ac^drei^st^Kl  his  compaoiou. 


144  THE      7B0NTIKBSMIK. 

"  Why  wouldn't  it  be  a  good  idea  for  one  of  us  to  reconnoitrt 
a  little  ?  We  could  find  out  for  sartin  whether  any  of  the  rep- 
tiles are  ra'ally  round  here  or  not  ?" 

Eagle's-Wing  did  not  answer.  His  eyes  seemed  to  be  strained 
almost  from  their  sockets  in  endeavoring  to  pierce  the  darkness. 
Suddenly  the  silence  was  broken  by  the  discharge  of  his  rifle ; 
and  at  the  unexpected  sound  amidst  thp  unnatural  quiet  which 
reigned  around  them,  every  member  of  the  little  garrison  started 
simultaneously  with  the  report.  A  scream  was  heard  from  the 
outside,  towards  the  ravine,  and  Ichabod  saw  an  Indian  fall  strug- 
gling upon  the  ground,  while  a  small  brand  of  fire  fell  by  his 
side  upon  the  dry  leaves  along  the  edge  of  the  ravine. 

"  Well  done,  Eagle's-Wing  ! "  exclaimed  Ichabod.  "  It  takes 
an  Injin  to  see  an  Injin  in  the  dark ;  but  that  rascal  won't  set 
fire  to  the  cottage,  any  way." 

"  Plenty  more,  down  yonder,  where  he  come  from.  They  keep 
still,  though  ;  won't  be  foolish,  this  time." 

It  was  true,  that  although  the  Seneca  had  fallen,  and  the  brand 
of  fire  which  he  had  carried  concealed,  lay  by  his  side ;  not  a 
sound  indicated  the  presence  of  another  enemy.  They  had  failed 
in  this  attempt ;  but  another  might  be  more  successful.  It  was 
evident,  that  on  this  occasion,  the  Senecas  would  throw  away  no 
chances  of  triumph. 

It  has  already  been  mentioned  that  the  forest  on  the  edge  of  the 
ravine,  approached  within  three  or  four  rods  of  the  cottage ;  and 
as  the  ground  was  strown  with  dry  leaves  and  dead  underbrush, 
the  feelings  of  safety  which  the  defenders  of  the  cottage,  for  a 
moment,  had  entertained  on  the  detection  of  this  attempt  to  set 
the  building  on  fire,  was  now  exchanged  for  alarm.  The  brand 
which  had  fallen  by  the  side  of  the  Indian,  had  unfortunately 
fallen  upon  a  small  pile  of  dry  underbrush,  which  was  also  cov- 
ered with  dry  leaves.  A  slight  wind,  which  now  blew  in  occa- 
sional light  gusts  from  the  northward,  ignited  the  whole  brand 
into  a  live  coal,  and  a  feeble  blaze  began  to  ascend  from  around  it. 

"  Cora-found  the  fire  ! "  exclaimed  Ichabod.  "  I'll  try  and  stop 
that  enemy,  any  way." 

He  discharged  his  rifle  at  the  burning  brand,  and  the  coal  flew 
scattered  in  all  directions.  This  was  a  risk  which  he  foresaw. 
The  scattered  coals  might  fall  upon  other  places  which  were 
equally  dangerous ;  if-^so,  the  danger  would  be  increased ;  but 
there  was  a  chance,  too,  that  they  might  fall  upon  places  where 
they  would  be  extinguished.  For  a  moment,  the  experiment 
seemed  perfectly  successful ;  a  feeble  and  flickering  blaze,  that 
seemed  about  to  expire,  only  remained  where  the  brand  had 
originally  fallen.  But  another  slight  gust  of  wind  now  cam«i 
and  the  feeble  blaze  streamed  upwards  inte  a  steady  fire. 

"  Over  here,  with  your  rifles,"  shouted  Ichabod ;  and  five 
rifles  were  at  once  discharged  i^to  the  burning  pile.    The  blazing 


THE      FBONTIEBSMKir.  145 

brush  ^"SiS  partially  scattered ;  but  that  now  seemed  to  increast 
the  danger.  The  wiud  came  in  gentle  currents,  and  the  dry  learei 
and  brush  were  taking  fire  in  half-a-dozen  different  places.  It 
was  useless  to  fight  an  enemy  which  was  only  multiplied  and 
made  more  dangerous  by  defeat. 

'•  I  reckon  it's  bad  enough,"  said  Ichabod,  "  to  have  to  fight 
them  rascally  Injins,  without  being  obliged  to  fight  the  elements, 
besides.  Wind,  fire,  and  Injins,  all  at  once,  are  rayther  too  much 
for  human  natur'." 

"  What's  to  be  done  now  ?  "  inquired  Barton,  who  had  become 
Tery  much  agitated  by  this  new  danger,  for  it  was  apparent  that 
should  the  dry  wood  in  the  forest  set  fire  to  the  trees,  as  would 
be  most  likely,  with  a  northern  wind  to  blow  the  flames  in  the 
direction  of  the  cottage,  nothing  could  prevent  the  building  from 
taking  fire.  But  there  was  yet  hope  ;  the  fire  might  be  confined 
to  the  underbrush,  and  expire  without  catching  among  the  trees. 

"  I  don't  know  of  anything  we  can  do  just  now.  Squire,"  re- 
plied Ichabod,  to  the  question  ot  Barton,  "  except  to  wait.  I've 
known  things  to  be  as  desp'rate  before,  and  come  out  right  in  the 
end.  I  don't  like  it,  though,  that's  sartin.  I'm  afeard,  Eagle's- 
Wing,  that  we  shall  have  to  try  that  thing  we  talked  about." 

"  Think  so,  too,"  was  the  calm  reply  of  the  Tuscarora  ;  "  when 
time  come,  then  I'm  ready." 

For  a  short  time,  the  anxiety  felt  in  the  cottage  was  extreme. 
It  was  yet  doubtful  whether  there  was  any  serious  danger  from 
this  new  enemy  or  not.  But  the  fire  steadily  increased  j  it  ran 
along  the  ground,  catching  from  bush  to  bush,  and  among  heaps 
of  dry  bushes  and  limbs  of  trees,  which  had  been  collected  by 
the  labor  of  Barton,  and  soon  the  light  began  to  penetrate  the 
recesses  of  the  forest.  The  red  rays  darted  in  among  the  old  trees, 
and  lit  them  up  with  a  strange,  wild  glare.  The  flames  crept 
along  with  steady  pace,  as  the  fire  increased,  until  the  whole  ra- 
vine was  suddenly  illumined  by  a  blaze  of  light,  and  in  its 
recesses  were  disclosed  the  main  body  of  the  Senecas,  watching 
with  savage  delight  the  insidious  approaches  of  their  new  ally. 
When  they  saw  that  they  were  discovered,  a  wild  yell  of  exulta- 
tion broke  from  every  throat,  and  darting  from  the  ravine,  they 
scattered  in  all  directions  about  the  cottage  ;  but  at  sufficient  dis- 
tance to  be  out  of  reach  of  the  rifles.  For  a  short  time,  all  was 
silent  again,  and  all  were  intent  upon  observing  the  progress  of 
this  new  assailant. 

The  whole  surface  of  the  gronn  for  four  or  five  rods  in  extent, 
immediately  north  of  tha  cottage,  seemed  now  to  be  on  fire.  At 
numerous  points,  the  fir  raged  intensely,  and  shot  up  tall  spirei 
of  flames  among  the  cra-H.ling  branches  ;  now  catching  upon  the 
mossy  side  of  a  tree,  it  ran  upward,  darting  with  the  rapidity  of 
lightning  for  a  moment,  then  suddenly  expiring,  leaving  a  black- 
taed  ciustj  instead  of  the  fresh  green  moss.    The  wind  gradually 


^40  TES      rSONTIERSUEir. 

blew  stronger  and  wilder.  Unluckily,  heaps  of  dry  wood  had 
been  piled  around  the  trunks  of  trees,  and  now  the  bodies  of 
those  trees  were  seen  to  be  on  fire.  Up  among  the  branches 
leaped  the  flames :  points  of  fire  darted  here  and  there,  like  blazing 
serpents,  while,  borne  by  the  wind,  thick  clouds  of  sparks  began 
to  load  the  air,  and  dart  towards  the  doomed  roof  of  the  cottage. 
Soon,  a  steady  stream  of  flame  began  to  mount  the  trunk  of  a 
tall  dead  pine,  which  stood  upon  the  edge  of  the  forest.  Upward 
and  upward  it  crept ;  now  pausing,  as  if  to  gnaw  inward  into  its 
centre,  then  darting  with  a  leap  like  a  wild  beast,  pouncing  on 
its  prey.  Around  the  base  of  the  tree,  the  fire  raged  intensely, 
for  here  a  mass  of  dry  limbs  and  logs  had  been  collected  ;  and 
momentarily,  the  flames  from  all  sides  ate  inwardly  towards  its 
centre.  A  few  dry  and  leafless  limbs  stood  out  from  the  old 
trunk,  pointing  upward  ;  and  along  these  the  fire  now  crept,  and 
they  seemed  like  tortured  arms  held  bleeding  to  the  sky. 

The  cottage  was  no  longer  safe.  A  few  moments  more,  and 
the  pine  must  fall ;  if  it  fell  upon  the  cottage,  it  would  crush  it 
into  a  heap  of  ruins ;  and  if  this  danger  was  avoided,  the  fire 
could  not  be  escaped.  The  intense  heat  already  penetrated  the 
building,  and  through  the  loop-holes  streamed  the  light,  with  a 
red,  unearthly  glare.  The  Indians  saw  that  the  inmates  must 
either  endeavor  to  escape  or  be  consumed.  The}-  had  scattered 
about  the  cottage  in  all  directions ;  not  a  point  was  left  unguarded, 
where  their  victims  could  escape ;  and  as  the  moment  of  venge- 
ance approached  nearer  and  nearer,  they  testified  their  joy  by 
loud  and  exulting  shrieks.  Every  window,  every  door  was 
guarded  ;  the  roof  of  the  cottage  stood  out  against  the  sky,  and 
every  crack  and  cranny  of  its  thatching  was  exposed.  Suddenly, 
to  their  surprise  and  delight,  the  door  that  opened  upon  the  roof 
was  lifted,  and  their  most  hated  enemy,  the  Tuscarora,  leaped 
from  the  glaring  rafters  with  his  rifle  in  his  hand,  and  stood  for 
a  moment  before  their  eyes,  erect  and  fearless.  In  the  strong, 
red  light,  every  feature  of  his  countenance  could  be  traced — every 
gesture  could  be  marked.  With  a  steady  look  of  indifierence,  he 
gazed  about  him  for  a  moment,  then  darting  forward,  leaped 
from  the  roof  to  the  ground.  The  place  selected  for  the  leap  was 
the  south-west  angle  of  the  building,  where  he  whould  fall  within 
the  shadow.  Thirty  rifles  had  been  raised  to  shoot  at  him ;  but 
the  admiration  of  the  Senecas  at  this  exploit  had  probably  saved 
his  life ;  for  not  a  rifile  was  discharged,  until  he  had  darted  for- 
ward in  his  leap  into  the  darkness.  Every  Indian  rushed  for- 
ward towards  the  spot  where  the  Tuscarora  had  been  seen  to 
leap  ;  for  this,  the  most  prized,  the  most  hated  of  their  enemies, 
they  deemed  to  be  now  inevitably  in  their  power.  The  Tusca- 
rora staggered  as  he  struck  the  ground  ;  but  instantly  gathering 
himself,  he  darted  towards  the  grove.  Two  Senecas  leaped  bo- 
fore  him.  who  had  been  stationed  at  this  point — the  others  no^ 


THI      FRONTIESSMSir.  HJ 

fcaTiDg  yet  arrived.  With  a  blow  from  his  rifle  he  knocked 
down  one  o.*  them,  and  darting  past  the  other,  gained  the  grovb, 
The  Senecas  who  had  now  arrived  about  the  cottage  from  the 
different  points,  set  out  in  chase  ;  but  Panther,  who  saw  that 
this  would  afford  means  for  those  yet  within  the  building  to 
escape,  after  the  lapse  of  a  few  minutes,  was  able  to  recall  a  por- 
tion of  the  Senecas,  who  were  again  distributed  about  the  cot- 
tage. 

But  these  few  minutes  had  accomplished  all  that  the  Tusca- 
rora  had  designed.  Before  he  ascended  the  roof,  the  remainder 
of  the  party  inside  gathered  by  the  window  through  which  Guth- 
rie bore  off  Ruth,  on  the  night  of  the  former  attack.  The  ladder 
was  in  readiness,  and  at  the  moment  when  the  Senecas  were 
seen  to  rush  past  the  eastern  side  of  the  cottage  in  pursuit  of  the 
Tuscarora.  the  window  was  opened,  the  ladder  let  down,  and  one 
by  one  the  party  quickly  descended — Ichabod  descending  last. 
As  he  stepped  out  upon  the  ladder,  he  closed  the  window — and 
when  he  had  reached  the  ground,  the  ladder  was  thrown  down  by 
the  side  of  the  cottage.  The  party  instantly  set  out  toward  the 
pond,  and  at  a  distance  of  about  ten  rods,  they  had  descended 
the  hill  to  a  point  where  they  were  concealed  in  the  darkness. 
It  was  at  just  about  this  moment,  that  Panther  had  again  dis- 
tributed a  portion  of  the  Senecas  about  the  cottage,  while  an- 
other portion  was  in  pursuit  of  the  Tuscarora.  Their  flight  had 
thus  far  been  unobserved ;  and  now  they  walked  more  leisurely 
towards  the  shore  of  the  pond,  where  they  expected  to  find  the 
boat  which  we  described  on  a  former  occasion,  and  the  position 
of  which  had  been  noticed  by  Ichabod,  just  before  dark,  from 
the  cottage.  After  aJittle  time,  the  boat  was  reached  ;  the  party 
entered  it,  and  an  extra  supply  of  rifles,  which  had  been  brought 
from  the  cottage,  was  carefully  deposited.  They  shoved  off  from 
the  shore,  which,  at  this  point  might,  in  the  progress  of  the  fire, 
become  exposed — and  paddling  northward,  reached  a  point  where 
the  hill  ascended,  on  the  crest,  sharply  from  the  shore,  but  where 
the  land  was  suflBciently  low  in  a  north-westerly  direction  to 
allow  them  to  obtain  a  good  and  but  partially  obstructed  view 
of  the  cottage. 

But  a  few  moments  after  they  had  taken  up  this  position,  they 
discovered  the  roof  of  the  cottage  to  be  on  fire.  The  sparks  and 
pieces  of  blazing  bark  which  were  blown  from  the  ravine  had 
fallen  upon  the  thatching,  which  was  of  light  and  combustible 
material,  and  had  ignited  it  at  various  pomts ;  and  slowly  but 
surely  the  flames  began  to  devour  this,  the  only  obstacle,  as  the 
Senecas  believe,  to  their  complete  triumph. 

Soon,  the  fugitives  saw  the  top  of  the  tall,  dry  pine  begin  to 
rock  and  waves  with  its  blazing  crown ;  then,  slowly  bending 
southward,  the  huge  trunk  fell  across  the  cottage,  crushing  in  the 
burning  roof,  ami  staiting  the  logs  from  their  places  in  the  sides 


148  THK      FR0KTISR8UBV. 

of  the  building.  The  shrieks  of  the  Indians  were  horrible,  m 
they  now  supposed  that  their  victims  were  fully  in  their  power. 
Leaping  forwards,  they  broke  in  the  doors,  and  rushed  in  among 
the  flames.  From  room  to  room,  the  wandered.  Up  the  stair- 
way, which  was  covered  with  burning  coals,  they  rushed,  and 
gazed  in  among  the  fallen  and  blazing  rafters.  Not  a  pale-face 
was  to  be  seen.  The  Senecas  could  not  believe  that  they  had 
escaped ;  and  again  and  again  every  point  and  portion  of  the 
cottage  was  searched ;  until,  at  length,  it  became  apparent  that 
their  victims  had  fled.  But  how.  and  where  ?  The  superstitious 
feelings  of  the  Indians,  for  a  moment,  were  excited ;  and  they 
thought  that  their  intended  victims  must  have  been  rescued  by 
the  direct  interposition  of  the  Great  Spirit  of  the  pale-faces.  But 
Panther,  saw  at  once,  the  manner  of  the  escape ;  and  that  it  had 
been  accomplished  while  the  attention  of  the  Senecas  was  with- 
drawn by  the  daring  exploit  of  the  Tuscarora.  He  immediately 
ordered  the  Indians  to  scour  the  woods  in  all  directions,  and  par- 
ticularly the  shores  of  the  pond. 

The  party  in  the  boat  could  see,  from  the  gestures  of  the 
Indians,  the  extent  of  their  surprise ;  and  they  also  well  under- 
stood the  directions  of  Panther.  They  carefully  paddled  the 
boat  farther  out  into  the  pond,  and  more  towards  the  northern 
shore,  where  they  would  be  completely  hidden,  for  the  present,  in 
the  shadows  of  the  hills  and  trees,  from  the  light  of  the  fire. 

"  Them  reptiles  are  deceived  this  time,  any  way,"  said  Icha- 
bod,  laughing.  "If  Eagle's- Wing  only  gets  through  his  part, 
according  to  the  programme,  we  may  consider  ourselves  pretty 
tolerably  lucky ;  and  I  hav'nt  any  doubt  but  what  he  will.  We 
shall  hear  from  him  before  a  great  while.  I  agreed  to  lay  off  up 
here  for  him." 

"  That  was  a  daring  act  on  the  part  of  Eagle's- Wing,"  said 
Ralph ;  and  had  I  known  precisely  his  purpose,  I  doubt  whether 
I,  for  one,  should  have  assented  to  it.  The  chances  were  ten  to 
one,  against  his  escaping  with  life." 

"  Lord  love  you.  Captain,"  said  Ichabod,  "  Eagle's- Wing  knows 
•njin  natur'  pretty  well,  considering  he's  an  lujin  himself;  and 
tie  knew  that  them  rascals  would  be  so  astonished,  that  they 
wouldn't  fire  at  him  till  he  had  time  to  get  out  of  their  sight. 
What  I  was  most  afeard  on,  was  his  getting  off  the  roof;  but  it's 
all  right,  and  went  oS"  according  to  contract,"  and  Ichabod 
laughed. 

*'  I  can  easily  bear  the  destruction  of  my  property,"  said  Bar- 
ton. "  if  Eagle's- Wing  escapes.  But  I  think,  as  Ralph  does,  that 
if  you  had  disclosed  the  nature  of  your  plan,  I  should  have 
opposed  it.  I  should,  rather,  have  relied  upon  fighting  our  waj 
through  to  the  shor?." 

"  Didn't  we  know  that  ?"  asked  Ichabod,  with  a  laugh.  "  No- 
body but  Singing-Blid  was  let  into  that  secret  {  and  she,  bleia 


fBI      FRONTISRSMIW.  149. 

her  little  soul,  ra'ally  insisted,  for  a  long  time,  on  going  to  the 
roof  with  him :  but  she's  got  reason,  and  finally  consented  It 
the  arrangement." 

Singing-Bird,  to  whom  all  eyes  were  now  directed,  in  admira- 
tion, only  answered : 

*'  Eagle's- Wing  do  that  for  friend.  He  'members  friend.  H« 
wouldn't  be  brave  Injin  if  he  didn't  do  sometHng  for  friend." 

'•  He  has  always  been  the  creditor  in  an  account,"  answered 
Barton.  "  He  has  given  us  no  opportunity,  yet,  to  repay  him  for 
anything." 

Both  Barton  and  Ruth,  notwithstanding  their  thankfulness  at 
this  escape,  surveyed  the  destruction  of  the  cottage  with  feelings 
of  melancholy.  To  Barton,  it  was  the  home  of  his  old  age — 
where  he  had  planted  his  household  gods,  with  the  hope  that 
they  would  survive  him.  The  cottage  had  been  erected,  and  had 
gradually  been  made  a  comfortable  dwelling,  by  his  labor ;  while 
around  it,  he  had  rescued  fair  fields  from  the  wilderness,  from 
which  he  had  hoped  to  derive  the  means  of  prosperity.  To  Ruth, 
it  was  endeared  by  other  associations ;  and  they  both  saw  that 
all  the  hopes  and  dreams  which  they  had  cherished,  were  ended, 
and  that  this  place  must  again — even  if  they  ultimately  succeeded 
in  escaping  from  their  enemies — pass  from  their  possession,  if  not 
from  their  remembrance.  Barton  continued,  in  answer  to  Sing- 
ing-Bird : 

•*And  my  power  to  repay  him,  is  gone.  I  am  now  an  old 
man,  deprived  of  everything  but  my  daughter  and  my  life.  But 
I  cannot  complain.     The  Lord's  will  be  done." 

"  Let  as  not  think  about  our  loss,"  said  Ruth  earnestly,  '*'  since 
we  have  saved  so  much.  We  truly  have  need  to  be  thankful  to 
a  kind  Providence,  that  we  and  all  our  friends  have  escaped 
with  our  lives." 

At  this  moment,  a  rifle  was  heard,  at  a  few  rods  distance 
apparently  on  the  western  shore ;  and  at  the  same  instant,  there 
was  a  sound  as  of  a  heavy  body  falling  into  the  water.  The  idea 
occurred  to  each  in  the  boat,  that  this  might  be  the  Tuscarora , 
and  the  boat  was  instantly  moved  in  that  direction.  As  they 
approached  the  shore,  they  heard  some  of  the  enemy  talking, 
and  evidently  laboring  under  a  great  excitement ;  and  it  wa3 
easy  to  believe  that  it  was  owing  to  the  escape  of  Eagle's- Wing 
They  had  reached,  in  perfect  silence,  within  eight  or  ten  rods  of 
the  shore,  when  Ichabod  discovered  an  Indian  swimming  towards 
the  boat.  It  was  the  Tuscarora,  and  he  was  lifted  in,  panting 
with  fatigua 

"  Long  run  had  this  time,"  said  he,  "  They  almost  catch  me— 
they  shoot  me  a  little ;  but  better  have  arm  shot,  than  lose  scalp 
though." 

It  was  found,  on  examination,  that  the  ball  had  merely  pen© 
trated  the  fleshy  part  of  his  arm,  without  having  done  any  verr 


150  THE      FRONTIERSMEN. 

lerious  injury.  It  was  immediately  bandaged  by  Ralph,  wi€  li 
much  care  as  their  means  would  permit ;  while  Ichabod  and  4k9 
negro  paddled  the  boat  towards  the  northern  shore. 

It  has  been  mentioned  before,  in  the  brief  description  wnich 
we  gave  of  the  pond,  that  on  the  north  was  a  low  marshy  flat, 
and  that  the  edge  of  the  pond  was  thickly  bordered  with  willows 
and  other  bushes  ;  but  back  a  short  distance  from  the  shore, 
the  bushes  were  few  and  stinted  in  growth,  while  the  marsh  was 
so  soft,  that  it  was  impassible  to  one  unacquainted  with  it,  even 
by  the  aid  of  day-light.  Ichabod  and  the  Tuscarora  were  both 
confident  that  the  Senecas  had  no  canoes  upon  the  pond ;  and 
that  there  was  only  one  upon  the  river  in  the  possession  of  the 
Senecas,  and  that  this  one  was  only  capable  of  carrying  three 
or  four  persons  There  were  no  materials  at  hand  with  which  a 
raft  could  be  constructed ;  and  it  was  with  a  feeling  of  security 
that  the  boat  was  made  fast  among  the  willows  for  the  night. 

The  fire  about  the  cottage,  for  a  time,  kad  been  gradually 
diminishing ;  and  thicker  and  thicker  fell  the  darkness  upon 
forest  and  water.  Gradually  the  shrieks  and  cries  of  the  Indians 
subsided,  and  silence  at  length  fell  upon  the  scene. 


^♦» 


CHAPTER    XX. 

"  Hence,  strangers,  to  your  native  shore ! 
Far  from  our  Indian  shades  retire." 

Fbemsav. 

When  the  morning  light  had  rendered  objects  sufficiently 
risible,  the  party  in  the  boat  endeavored  to  get  a  view  of  their 
precise  situation.  The  place  where  the  cottage  had  stood,  co«ld 
be  distincty  seen ;  but  instead  of  the  dwelling,  there  appeared 
nothing  but  a  mass  of  black  and  smoking  ruins.  But  not  an  In- 
dian was  to  be  seen.  The  party  partook  of  a  very  frugal  break- 
fast ;  for  previous  to  their  flight,  they  had  secured  a  few  articles 
of  food — sufficient,  if  sparingly  used,  to  last  them  for  three  or  four 
days. 

"  The  question  now  seems  to  be,"  said  Ichabod,  "  what  we're 
going  to  do  next.  Here  we  are — the  cottage  is  burnt  down- 
that  factory  project  is  blowed  up,  for  a  while,  at  least ;  and 
providing — I  say,  providing,  we  can  get  away  from  these  vil- 
lainous reptiles,  I'm  for  steering  for  the  settlements." 

"  I  think  that  will  be  the  course  that  we  must  adopt,"  said 
KaJph.  "  It  will  be  a  tedious  undertaking,  in  the  face  of  all 
our  difficulties,  as  we  shall  be  obliged  to  walk  the  whole  distancd 


TBI      FRONTIERSMEir.  101 

th«  horses  will  undoubtedly  either  be  destroyed  or  captured  by 
the  Indians.  Could  they  be  saved,  so  that  Miss  Barton  and 
Singing-Bird  could  ride,  it  would  not  be  so  diflBcult." 

Barton  assented  with  a  melancholy  look.  "  There's  no  use," 
he  said,  "  in  my  attempting  to  rebuild  the  cottage,  even  if  the 
Senecas  abandon  the  country.  I  am  getting  old,  and  cannot 
labor  as  I  once  could.  Yes — we  shall  have  to  go  to  the  settle- 
ments." 

Ruth  assured  them  that  she  could  walk  the  distance  neces- 
sary with  perfect  ease.  As  for  Singing-Bird,  she  laughed  at  th« 
idea  of  riding. 

As  all  assented  to  this  proposal,  the  next  thing  was  to  find  the 
means  of  escape  from  their  present  diflBculties.  It  would  not  be 
safe  to  leave  their  cover  in  the  willows,  so  long  as  the  Senecai 
remained ;  and  it  was  hoped,  th^t  not  discovering  them  upon  the 
pond,  they  would,  after  searching  for  them  in  the  woods,  for  a 
day  or  two,  finally  abandon  the  hope  of  capturing  them,  and 
either  set  out  on  their  return  to  their  own  country,  or  remove 
farther  down  the  valley. 

A  feeling  of  joyful  excitement  pervaded  the  party.  The  ex- 
treme danger  of  their  situation  on  the  previous  night,  their  for- 
tunate flight,  and  the  hope  of  an  early  escape,  served  to  awaken 
this  feeling,  which,  even  Barton  and  Ruth,  who  were  so  much  the 
greatest  sufferers  by  recent  events,  shared  with  the  others. 

"  I  suppose,"  said  Barton,  "  that  Jenkins  will  most  seriously 
feel  the  consequences  of  our  removal  to  the  settlements.  First, 
he  loses  a  fortune  by  the  failure  of  that  city-lot  and  factory 
speculation  ;  and  next,  he  runs  the  risk  of  escape  from  the  Sene- 
oes,  to  be  captured  and  imprisoned  by  his  pale-faced  friends." 

"Now,  that's  rather  too  hard,  Squire,"  said  Ichabod.  "  That 
factory  business  will  keep  for  some  years,  at  least :  and  as  for 
that  other  matter,  I  hope  that  fellow  Parsons  will  discover  from 
the  fate  of  his  two  oflBcers,  who  took  up  the  business  on  specula- 
tion, that  there's  a  special  Providence  agin  his  collecting  it.  But 
if  he  don't  see  reason,  we'll  try  and  manage  it." 

The  Tuscarora,  who  had  taken  no  part  in  the  conversation 
but  who  had  simply  exchanged  a  few  words,  at  intervals,  with 
Singing-Bird,  which  seemed  to  cloud  her  face  with  anxiety,  now 
arose,  and  stretching  his  arm  towards  the  south,  merely  uttered 
the  common  Indian  ejaculation  of  surprise. 

"Ugh!" 

The  others  immediately  arose,  and  after  a  few  moments,  their 
eyes  became  fastened  upon  a  sight,  which  attracted  their  atten 
tion.  On  the  opposite  shore  of  the  pond,  some  half-a-dozen 
Indians  were  seen,  busily  at  work,  partially  hidden  behind  bushes 
that  grew  to  the  water's  edge.  It  was  evident  that  they  wer« 
engaged  in  the  construction  of  a  raft,  with  which  they  probably 
ntended  to  search  the  oortbero  shore.    Though  this  afiforded 


152  THl      FSONTIIBIMlir. 

Bome  cause  for  alarm,  yet,  as  a  raft  large  enough  to  convey  a  sti§' 
ficiently  numerous  party  to  attack  them  with  any  chance  of  sue* 
cess,  would  be  too  unwieldy  to  be  moved  through  the  water, 
except  with  the  greatest  labor — they  had  no  fear  but  that,  if 
their  landing-place  should  be  discovered,  they  would  be  able^  by 
the  greater  ease  with  which  their  boat  could  be  managed,  to 
escape  from  its  pursuit.  So  long  as  they  could  reaaain  near 
the  northern  shore,  they  would  be  comparatively  safe,  as  they 
had  no  fear  of  any  attack  in  that  quarter,  by  land.  No  force 
sufficiently  large  could  penetrate  in  that  direction,  to  give  them 
any  uneasiness  ;  but  should  they  be  driven  by  the  raft  from  their 
present  position,  they  might  be  compelled,  in  escaping  from  it,  to 
pass  between  it  and  the  shore,  at  some  point  where  they  might 
be  exposed  to  an  attack  from  either.  But  for  the  present,  they 
maintained  their  position,  and  awaited  the  movements  of  tiie 
enemy. 

It  was  probable  that  their  precise  position  was  unknown,  al- 
though the  sagacity  of  the  Indians  would  convince  them  that  the 
fugitives  must  be  concealed  somewhere  on  the  northern  shore. 
The  woods  had  been  thoroughly  searched,  and  no  traces  of  the 
fugitives  had  been  found,  while  the  disappearance  of  the  boat, 
together  with  the  fact  that  they  could  not  observe  it  upon  tha 
pond,  was  sufficient  to  induce  them  to  believe  that  the  fugitives 
were  yet  in  their  power,  had  they  any  means  to  reach  them. 
They  could  not,  without  days  of  labor,  construct  canoes  by  which 
they  would  be  able  to  compete  in  speed  with  the  boat  in  the 
possession  of  the  fugitives  ;  but  by  building  a  large  raft,  which 
could  be  accomplished  in  two  or  three  hours,  they  might  man  it 
with  sufficient  numbers  to  move  it  readily  from  place  to  place, 
as  well  as  to  capture  the  fugitives,  should  they  overtake  them. 

An  hour  or  two  had  elapsed  since  Eagle's- Wing  discovered  the 
employment  of  the  Senecas,  when  they  saw  a  large  number  of 
Indians  collected  together  at  the  place  where  the  raft  was  being 
constructed.  Soon  they  saw  the  unwieldy  structure  moved  into 
the  pond ;  when  about  fifteen  of  the  Senecas,  some  with  poles  for 
urging  the  raft  along  the  shore,  and  others  with  paddles  for  use 
in  the  deeper  water,  got  upon  it,  and  forced  it  into  the  pond. 
At  first,  they  kept  close  to  the  shore,  but  soon  struck  out  into 
the  deeper  water.  Their  progress  was  extremely  slow ;  but  it 
was  sufficiently  rapid^o  keep  pace  with  the  anxiety  of  the  fugi- 
tives. 

The  point  was  earnestly  debated  between  Ichabod  and  his 
companions,  whether  they  should  trust  to  the  cover  in  which 
they  now  were,  or  whether,  on  the  near  approach  of  the  Indians, 
they  should  pnsh  out  into  the  pond.  But  it  was  finally  agreed, 
as  the  safest  course,  to  trust  to  the  water ;  as,  were  they  to  remain 
where  they  now  were,  and  should  they  be  discovered,  they  would 
be  compelled  to  fight  at  great  odds ;  and  besides,  there  would  bf 


TMB      FRONTIIIIMIV.  153 

••  means  of  flight ;  while,  should  they  adopt  the  other  course,  they 
might  keep  out  of  reach  of  the  rifles  of  the  Indians ;  or  if  not, 
they  could,  at  least,  be  in  a  condition  to  maintain  the  fight  at 
less  odds  and  with  greater  chance  of  escape. 

The  raft  had  been  urged  to  some  distance  from  the  shore  into 
the  deep  water ;  it  was  moved  towards  the  north-east  shore,  with 
the  intention,  evidently,  of  carrying  it  thence,  along  the  whole 
southern  side  of  the  pond.  It  finally  reached  the  shore,  at  which 
point,  it  was  from  thirty  to  forty  rods  from  the  spot  where  th* 
boat  was  concealed.  As  the  Indians  began  to  move  along  the 
shore,  partly  by  the  use  of  poles,  and  parti)'-  by  pulling  upon  the 
willows,  the  boat  shot  out  from  its  cove  into  the  pond.  The 
Indians  witnessed  it  with  loud  3^ells  of  joy  both  from  the  raft 
and  the  shore ;  and  three  or  four  rifles  from  the  raft  were  dis- 
charged, but  the  bullets  struck  in  the  water,  their  force  being 
spent  before  reaching  the  boat.  The  fugitives  moved  leisurely 
towards  the  centre  of  the  pond,  while  the  Indians  who  manned 
the  raft,  resumed  the  use  of  their  paddles,  and  endeavored  to  fol- 
low them.  The  boat  kept  its  distance  from  the  raft,  moving 
towards  the  south-west  shore.  T;.ntil  it  had  reached  a  position  just 
out  of  range  of  the  fire  of  thu  3enecas  from  the  land.  As  the 
Indians  upon  the  raft  came  up  almost  near  enough  to  use  their 
rifles  effectively,  the  boat,  urged  by  five  paddles,  passed  between 
it  and  the  south  shore.  It  took  no  little  time  and  labor  to 
check  the  motion  of  the  raft,  and  when  that  had  been  accom- 
plished, the  boat  was  again  approaching  the  northern  shore,  and 
had  nearly  reached  the  point  from  which  it  started.  •  It  was  evi- 
dent to  the  Indians  upon  the  raft,  that  they  might  thus  be  evaded 
during  the  whole  day  and  they  now  ceased  their  attempt  tc 
follow  the  fugitives. 

It  was  now  nearly  noon  j  and  both  the  raft  and  boat  lay  motion 
less  upon  the  water. 

"  There's  deviltry  in  tlTis  business,  somewhere,"  said  Ichabod. 

"  Injins  done  what  they  should  have  done  this  morning,"  said 
Eagle's- Wing.     "  They  gone  after  canoe." 

"  That's  it,  Eagle's- Wing ;  and  I  reckon  that  when  they've 
got  it  launched,  we  shall  have  our  hands  full." 

"  I  am  not  certain,"  said  Ralph,  '•  but  that  we  may  hold  out 
until  night ;  and  then,  perhaps,  we  should  take  to  the  shore,  and 
run  our  chance  in  the  woods." 

'•'I'm  of  your  opinion,  Captin,"  said  Ichabod,  "provided  we 
can  hold  out  until  night.  But  I  reckon — and  I  ain't  use  to  giving 
up  a  speculation,  while  there's  a  chance  of  making  anything  out 
of  it — that  if  we  stay  here,  we  shall  lose  our  scalps,  and  if  we  go 
then  it  will  be  just  about  the  same  thing.  I'm  blamed  if  I  sefl 
my  way  out  of  it." 

•  You  must  not  despair,  Ichabod,'*  said  Ruth — "  if  you  do  thaif 
W$  shall  lose  heart  altogether.'* 


154  THE      FSONTIERSMIir. 

"Lord  bless  you,  girl,  I  sV'  1 1  despair  till  them  villainous  rep* 
tiles  have  got  my  scalp  ;yond  the  hope  of  redemptiv/ii ;  and 
when  that  thing  happer  I  shall  have  to  give  it  up.  But  what 
do  you  aay,  Eagle's- Wi.  ^  ?" 

"  Guess  we  lose  our  f  ialps.  That's  what  I  say,"  sententiously 
replied  the  Tuscaroia. 

'•  But  not  without  a  fight  for  'em,  though,"  said  Ichabod. 

"  Has  any  one  ever  explored  this'  swamp  ?"  suddenly  asked 
Ralph.  "Is  it  not  possible  that  we  may  find  some  tolerably  safe 
cover  in  it  ?'* 

"  I  do  not  know  that  it  has  ever  been  thoroughly  explored," 
answered  Barton ;  ''  but  any  place  where  we  can  go,  those  Sen- 
ecas  can  follow." 

•'  I  am  not  so  certain  about  that,"  replied  Ralph.  "  If  you 
will  put  me  ashore,  I  will  reconnoitre  it." 

The  boat  again  entered  the  cover,  and  Ralph  stepped  out  upon 
the  turf,  and  instantly  sank  to  his  knees  in  the  mud.  But.  cling- 
ing to  the  willows,  he  extricated  himself,  and,  assisted  by  the 
roots,  which  furnished  a  sure  footing,  he  passed  some  twenty 
rods  from  the  shore,  when  he  discovered  a  little  island  of  hard 
soil,  not 'more  than  twenty  feet  across  in  either  direction,  and 
which  could  only  be  reached,  as  he  ascertained  on  examination, 
by  one  path,  part  of  which  was  formed  by  the  trunk  of  a  fallen 
tree,  some  forty  or  fifty  feet  in  length.  He  returned  with  a 
heart  relieved  of  half  its  load,  to  the  boat ;  and  he  had  but 
just  reached  it,  when  the  Indians  upon  the  raft  set  up  a  loud 
yell  of  joy.  The  cause  was  soon  ascertained ;  for  immediately 
afterwards,  four  Senecas  were  seen  approaching  with  a  canoe, 
which  they  had  brought  from  the  river.  No  time  was  to  be  lost, 
as  the  canoe  and  raft  together  would,  undoubtedly,  be  able  to 
outmatch  the  boat,  and  either  compel  them  to  a  fight  against 
great  odds,  or  drive  them  to  the  shore. 

Ralph  hastily  communicated  the  result  of  his  reconnoisance, 
and  their  resolution  was  instantly  formed.  The  party  immedi- 
ately left  the  boat ;  and  in  a  few  minutes,  although  with  great 
difficulty,  they  reached  the  little  island  which  had  been  discov- 
ered by  Ralph.  As  soon  as  it  was  reached,  they  saw  its  capa- 
bilities as  a  place  of  defence.  It  was  surrounded  upon  all  sides 
by  the  swamp,  and  was  approachable  from  na  point,  except  from 
that  at  which  they  j^gached  it.  Upon  the  island  were  two  large 
trees,  behind  which  Ruth  and  Singing-Bird  could  remain  in  safety, 
in  case  of  an  attempt  to  dislodge  them  from  the  only  practicable 
point.  There  were  also  thick  clumps  of  willows  around  it,  be- 
hind which  they  could  remain  concealed,  except  upon  a  near 
approach  of  the  enemy,  against  which  they  thought  themselves 
able  to  guard.  Ichabod  was  highly  delighted  with  this  new 
place  of  defence. 

"  We're  safe  bsre,  Captin.    I'll  risk  all  the  Ii\iiiis  this  side  oi 


THE      FRONriERSHEN.  155 

Ch©  infarnal  legions,  as  long  as  our  ammunition  holds  out.  I'd 
like  to  see  them  red  devils  poking  their  heads  over  them  bushes, 
yonder." 

"  You'll  see  them  soon  enough,"  answered  Ralph ;  '•  but  I 
think  we  shall  escape  captivity  to-night,  at  least." 

Preparations  were  now  made  for  the  effectual  concealment  of 
the  women;  ani  when  this  was  done,  the  rifles  were  all  exam- 
ined and  put  in  readiness.  Scarcely  had  their  preparations  been 
concluded,  when  a  loud  shout  from  the  Indians  announced  that 
they  had  discovered  the  empty  boat.  The  path  of  the  fugitives 
could  easily  be  traced  ;  and  the  latter  did  not  doubt  but  that  a 
few  moments  would  bring  one  or  more  of  their  enemies  in  sight. 

Not  more  than  ten  minutes  had  elapsed,  ere  Ichabod  discovered 
a  Seneca  cautiously  making  his  way  along  the  path  which  they 
had  taken,  clinging  to  the  willows. 

"  I'll  give  that  fellow  a  taste  of  what  his  companions  will  get 
by  calling  on  us,"  said  Ichabod.  "  It  wouldn't  be  civil  to  refuse 
him  what  he's  come  so  far  to  get," 

Taking  aim,  he  discharged  his  rifle,  and  the  Seneca  fell  lifeless, 
vainly  grasping  at  the  willows  for  support.  The  Indians  who 
were  behind,  endeavored  to  press  forward  ;  but  again  and  again 
the  rifles  of  the  defenders  were  discharged,  and  five  or  six  dead 
or  wounded  Indians  testified  to  Ichabod  and  his  companions,  that 
the  place  could  be  successfully  defended.  The  Indians  them- 
selves saw  the  hopelessness  of  approaching  the  fugitives  directly 
in  the  face,  and  rapidly  retreated  towards  the  boats. 

But  to  the  astonishment  of  the  little  party  on  the  island, 
scarcely  had  the  Senecas  regained  their  boat,  ere  they  heard  a 
rapid  discharge  of  rifles  on  their  left,  with  loud  shrieks  and  yells, 
testifying  the  arrival  of  another  party  of  Indians.  Were  they 
friends  or  foes  1  The  Tuscarora  rapidly  swung  himself  into  one 
of  the  trees  upon  the  Island,  when  with  a  yell  of  exultation 
which  was  answered  from  fifty  throats  he  shouted,  "  the  Oneidas, 
—the  Tuscaroras !" 

Rapidly  Eagle's-Wing,  Ichabod  and  Ralph  retraced  their  way  to 
the  place  where  they  had  left  the  boat ;  when  they  beheld  the 
Senecas  moving  as  swiftly  across  the  pond  towards  the  south-west 
shore,  as  the  nature  of  their  cumbrous  raft  would  allow.  The 
four  Senecas  in  the  canoe  had  already  nearly  reached  the  shore. 
On  the  left  they  beheld  a  large  band  of  Oneidas  and  Tuscaroras, 
forty  or  fifty  in  number,  who  were  following  the  retreating 
Senecas.  In  a  few  moments  more  the  released  party  had 
re-entered  their  boat,  and  were  following  the  Senecas  upon  the 
raft.  They  had  come  within  fair  rifle-shot,  as  the  raft  touched 
the  shore ;  their  rifles  were  discharged,  and  the  Senecas  plunged 
hastily  into  the  forest. 


146  *>>    rBoiiTiiRSifiv. 


CHAPTER    XXI. 

"  How  would  you  bi^ 
If  He,  who  is  Hhe  top  of  judgment,  should 
But  judge  you  as  you  are  1-   0,  think  on  that ! 
And  mercy  then  will  breathe  within  your  lips 
Like  man  new  made." 

Measubk  for  Mbasubi 

The  now  liberated  party  left  the  boat,  and  with' mingled 
feelings  of  joyfulness  for  their  delivery,  and  of  sadness  for  the 
waste  and  desolation  caused  by  the  unmerciful  savages,  proceeded 
towards  the  spot  where  had  once  stood  the  dwelling  of  Barton. 
Scarcely  a  trace  was  left  of  the  cottage,  and  nothing  but  a  mass 
of  half-consumed  and  charred  and  blackened  timbers  indicated 
that  here  had  once  been  the  habitation  of  a  happy  family.  On 
the  north,  the  trees  had  been  stripped  of  their  leaves,  their 
•trunks  and  boughs  blackened  and  partially  consumed,  while  the 
ground  appeared  to  have  been  covered  with  a  carpet  of  fire. 
The  lawn  about  the  cottage  had  been  made  desolate,  and  the 
shubbery  and  flowers  that  had  began  to  gladden  the  wilderness 
with  new  and  unaccustomed  beauties,  had  been  trodd-en  down 
and  broken  as  with  a  wonton  and  malicious  desire  on  the  part  of 
the  Indians  to  destroy  every  vestige  of  civilization. 

A  portion  of  the  friendly  Oneidas  and  Tuscaroras  had  followed 
in  pursuit  of  the  Senecas,  accompanied  by  Eagle's- Wing,  who,  on 
reaching  the  land,  had  rushed  with  frantic  haste  to  join  and  lead 
the  pursuers,  over  whom  he  was  an  acknowledged  chief. 
Another  portion,  after  going  around  the  south  shore  of  the  pond, 
with  feelings  of  curiosity,  sought  this  scene  of  desolation,  where 
they  arrived  a  little  before  the  party  from  the  boat.  The 
savages  moved  about  the  mass  of  smoking  ruins  with  excited 
countenances  and  flashing  eyes,  and  at  every  discovery  of  some 
blackened  and  despoiled  article  of  domestic  use,  gave  vent  to 
ejeculations,  either,  of  surprise  or  pleasure.  As  Barton,  and  the 
party  from  the  boat  approached,  the  Oneidas,  with  a  courtesy  and 
delicate  appreciation  of  the  feelings  of  Barton  and  his  daughter, 
retired  from  the  yuins  towards  the  grove,  where,  gathered  in 
knots,  or  lying  lazily  upon  the  ground,  they  gazed  upon  the 
pale-faces  with  mingled  looks  of  curiosity  and  sympathy. 

The  cattle  enclosure,  which  had  stood  by  the  side  of  the  cottage 
had  also  been  mostly  destroyed ;  that  portion  of  it,  however 
farthest  from  the  dwelling,  being  least  injured.  The  few  cattle 
which  had  been  shut  up  in  it,  had  perished,  and  their  bodies 
more  or  less  consumed,  were  found  among  the  ruins;  but  nc 
4rao«s  wer«  seen  of  the  horses.    The  door  of  the  enclosure  BoanuMJ^ 


Mil 


TH«      FRONTIERSMEIf.  157 

from  the  fact  that  a  portion  of  it  was  found  on  one  side,  unhannedL 
to  have  been  broken  open,  and  it  was  presumed,  that  the  Indians 
bad  taken  possession  of  them. 

The  barn,  however,  which  was  at  a  few  rods  distance,  on  th« 
west,  was  wholly  uninjured  ;  and  Tchabod  and  the  negro,  assisted 
by  two  or  three  of  the  Oneidas,  began,  at  once,  to  put  a  portion 
of  it  in  readiness  for  the  temporary  occupation  of  Barton  and  his 
daughter.  It  would,  at  least,  afford  a  shelter;  and  however  rude 
and  uncomfortable  it  might  be.  it  was  a  happy  exchange  for  the 
mode  of  life  to  which  they  had  been  compelled  on  the  previous 
night. 

Tears  came  into  the  eyes  of  Ruth,  as  she  surveyed  the  desola- 
tion by  which  she  was  surrounded.  Scarcely  a  vestige  could  be 
found  of  those  delicate  and  womanly  labors  by  which  she  had 
adorned  her  dwelling;  and  it  was  with  a  feeling  of  momentary 
anguish  that  her  eyes  ran  over  the  familiar  places,  and  found 
nothing  upon  which  to  rest  but  the  marks  of  violence  and  bru- 
tality. The  whole  party  shared  this  feelings,  and  they  surveyed 
the  scene,  for  a  few  moments,  with  a  melancholy  silence.  Ichar 
bod  was  the  first  who  gave  voice  to  his  feelings : 

"  Don't  be  cast  down,  Miss  Kuth;  and  you,  Squire,  keep  up 
a  good  courage.  I've  seen  many  an  unfortunate  speculation  in 
my  day ;  but  somehow  or  other,  there  is  always  a  kind  of  phi- 
losophy in  these  things.  The  first  feeling  is  a  hard  one ;  it 
swells  up  the  heart,  and  is  apt  to  provoke  rebellious  and  un- 
natural thoughts  ;  but  it  comes  round  all  right  in  the  end.  You'll 
yet  be  happy  in  another  home,  and  then  all  these  things  will  be 
forgotten,  except  that  one  lesson,  that  they  teach,  and  that  is, 
that  all  speculations  are  in  the  hand  of  Providence." 

"  You  are  right,  Ichabod,  you  are  right,"  said  Barton.  "  In 
our  own  escape,  the  loss  shall  be  forgotten.  But  the  severest 
reflection  is,  that  we  must  now  leave  this  valley  forever ;  but  we 
shall  carry  away  with  us,  the  recollection  of  many  happy  days." 

Ruth  smiled  with  a  look  of  joy,  that  momentarily  lit  up  the 
melancholy  of  her  countenance,  at  this  feeling  on  the  part  of  her 
father.  It  was  for  him  that  she  felt  the  most  deeply.  Youth, 
with  the  prospect  of  many  years,  may  rise  renewed  and  hopeful 
from  desolation ;  but,  age,  without  the  means  of  reparation,  is 
apt  to  sink  beneath  the  load  of  misfortune.  Seeing,  then,  that 
her  father  bore  his  loss  with  resignation,  and  with  a  happy  idea 
of  conforming  to  his  altered  circumstances,  she  assumed  a  cheer- 
fulness which  she  did  not,  perhaps,  wholly  feel. 

Scarcely  an  hour  had  elapsed,  after  the  flight  of  the  Senecas, 
when  a  yell  of  exultation  from  beyond  the  grove,  announced  the 
return  of  the  party  who  had  gone  in  pursuit  of  them.  Words 
were  heard  in  the  Iroquois  tongue,  which  produced  an  unusual 
excitement  in  the  savages,  who  were  wandering  about  the  ruined 
dwelling.    Then  could  be  seen  the  returning  warriors  ady&ncing 


158  THE      FRONTIERSMEN. 

leisurely  towards  the  ruins,  while  guarded  among  them,  they  led 
an  Indian  bound  as  a  prisoner. 

Eagle  s-Wing  came  in  advance,  with  a  quiet  look  of  triumph 
upon  his  countenance,  but  illy  disguised  beneath  the  usual  im- 
mobility of  face  of  the  Indian.  Mingled  with  this  look,  was  a 
glow  of  satisfied  revenge,  and  savage  exultation,  lie  came  up 
to  the  party  at  the  ruins,  while  the  rest  of  the  Indians  remained 
in  the  grove. 

"  Well,  EagleVWing,  what  news  from  the  Seaecas  V^  asked 
Ralph. 

"  Ask  Panther,"  answered  the  Tuscarora.     He  yonder." 

'•'  Such  is  the  fortune  of  war,"  said  Ichabod :  "  now  a  victor— 
now  a  prisoner.  But  I  am  glad  to  see,  Eagle's- Wing,  that  you're 
ra'ally  improving  under  my  instructions.  It's  a  great  step  to- 
wards civilization,  that  you  didn't  take  the  fellow's  scalp  at 
once." 

Wild  and  fiendish  was  the  glance  that  shot  from  the  dark  eye 
of  the  Indian ;  but  no  words  were  given  to  its  terrible  signifi- 
cance. Turning  leisurely  about,  he  moved  slowly  towards  the 
grove. 

In  the  meantime,  Barton  and  Ruth,  together  with  Singing- 
Bird,  took  possession  of  the  temporary  dwelling  that  had  been 
fitted  up  for  them.  Sambo,  who  had  gone  up  through  the  clear- 
ing, towards  the  forest,  soon  was  seen  returning  with  the  horses, 
which  he  was  leading  with  the  most  frantic  exclamations  of  joy. 
He  had  discovered  the  marks  of  their  hoofs  upon  the  ground, 
and  had  followed  on  their  track,  until  he  found  them  on  the  edge 
of  the  forest.  It  was  with  scarcely  less  joy  than  that  which 
Sambo  displayed,  that  Barton  beheld  them — the  only  remains  of 
his  little  property.  They  had  been  abandoned  by  the  Senecas  in 
their  sudden  surprise,  and  thus  the  most  serious  diflSculty  in  the 
removal  of  Barton  and  his  family  to  the  settlements,  was 
obviated. 

But  we  will  follow  Eagle's-Wing  to  the  grove  where  the 
Indians  were  now  collected.  Panther  had  been  securely  confined 
to  a  tree,  and  the  change  which  had  come  over  him,  under  his 
reverse  of  fortune,  was  most  wonderful  and  striking.  When  in 
command  of  his  party,  he  had  preserved  a  quiet  dignity  of  de- 
meanor— the  natural  consequence,  to  a  manly  mind,  of  the  power 
of  command.  His  face  had  worn  an  expression  of  solemn  gravity, 
and  there  was,  in  all  he  said  and  did,  an  air  of  courtesy  and 
sincerity,  which  had  struck  his  prisoners  as  inconsistent  with  his 
reputation  for  cunning  and  cruelty.  But  now,  deprived  ofvhis 
freedom,  and  in  the  power  of  his  enemies,  his  whole  manner  was 
changed.  With  head  erect — with  flashing  eyes,  and  nostrils 
that  quivered  with  untameable  ferocity,  he  glared  upon  the 
Indians  by  whom  he  was  surrounded.  As  Eagle's- Wing  approach- 
ed, his  glance  fell  upon  him  with  a  look  of  savage  malice.    Tht 


THE      TRONTIERSMEN.  15§ 

Tuscarora  came  up  directly  before  him,  and  with  folded  armS| 
gazed  into  the  eyes  of  his  prisoner. 

"  S«neca,"  said  he,  "  you  are  a  lying  chief  of  a  lying  nation. 
You  must  die.  I  have  been  told  that  the  Senecas  have  the 
hearts  of  girls.     I  wish  to  see  the  tears  in  your  eyes." 

"  The  Tuscaroras  are  women,"  began  the  Seneca,  in  a  quiet 
voice,  and  with  a  look  of  contempt.  "  They  once  dwelt  in  the 
land  of  the  sun,  where  the  snows  of  the  winter  never  come,  and 
their  hearts  became  soft,  and  the  pale-faces  made  them  slaves. 
That  was  all  they  were  fit  for.  They  did  not  know  how  to  fight 
their  enemies,  and  the  pale-faces  took  the  hatchets  and  the  bows 
from  their  hands,  and  made  them  work  in  the  fields.  Then  the 
Iroquois  took  pity  on  them,  and  wrapped  them  in  their  blankets, 
as  the  squaws  do  the  pappooses ;  and  they  brought  them  up  into 
the  land  of  braves,  and  gave  them  villages  and  hunting-grounds ; 
but  they  could  do  nothing  but  sit  shivering  by  the  fire.  They 
were  afraid  of  the  rifles  of  the  Colony  men,  and  they  deserted 
the  Iroquois.  They  are  worse  than  women — they  are  dogs ! 
They  are  little  dogs,  that  run  barking  at  our  heels,  and  dare  not 
bite  !  It  is  a  shame  for  a  warrior  to  fall  into  their  hands.  The 
death  of  the  brave  warrior,  in  the  midst  of  his  enemies,  is  the 
triumph  of  his  glory.  The  Great  Spirit  smiles,  as  the  warrior 
endures  the  torture,  and  lifts  him  up  to  the  happy  hunting- 
grounds  with  the  hand  of  a  father ;  while  his  name  goes  down 
in  the  traditions  of  his  enemies,  as  a  brave  who  died  without 
fear  !  But  I  am  ashamed.  The  Tuscaroras  have  no  traditions ! 
They  are  dogs !  and  however  so  brave  I  may  be,  my  name  will 
be  forgotten,  as  though  I  died  in  the  midst  of  dogs ! 

"  The  Oneidas  are  liars  !  They  have  forgotten  how  to  be  brave. 
They  live  with  the  dogs  of  the  Tuscaroras,  and  think  they  are  men. 
They  smile  in  the  faces  of  the  red-men,  and  throw  their  hatchets 
at  their  backs.  They  sit  down  and  listen  to  the  medicine-men, 
(missionaries,)  of  the  pale-faces,  and  learn  new  traditions.  They 
forget  that  they  are  Indians,  and  try  to  worship  the  Great-Spirit 
of  the  pale-faces.  They  are  liars ;  and  I  am  ashamed  to  die  in 
the  midst  of  liars  and  dogs !" 

These  contemptuous  words  excited  the  anger  of  the  Oneidas 
and  Tuscaroras  to  the  highest  degree;  and  with  a  shout  of  rage, 
tomahawks  were  brandished,  and  knives  drawn  from  their  belts, 
while  three  or  four  of  them  darted  forward  with  the  determina- 
tion of  at  once  terminating  the  life  of  the  insulting  Seneca ;  but 
at  a  gesture  from  Eagle's-Wing,  they  retired. 

"  Poor  thief  of  a  Seneca  !"  said  Eagle's-Wing,  "  whose  sharp* 
est  weapon  is  the  that  of  a  woman ;  he  can  only  hurt  his  ene- 
mies with  his  tongue.  If  we  had  him  in  our  villages,  we  would 
put  on  him  the  dress  of  a  squaw,  that  he  might  scold,  while  the 
warriors  stood  around  and  laughed  !  It  is  a  pity  that  an  Iro- 
quois can  only  hurt  his  enemies  with  his  tongue.      I  have  killed 


160  THK      FBONTIERSMEV. 

ft  great  many  Senecas ;  they  all  die  like  women,  and  screini 
when  they  feel  the  knife  on  their  scalps.  I  have  got  some  of 
them  here,"  throwing  back  his  blanket,  and  displaying  to  the 
passionate  eyes  of  the  Seneca  three  or  four  gory  scalps.  "  They 
are  not  fit  for  a  warrior  to  wear  ;  and  I  will  not  hang  them  in 
the  council-room  of  my  nation.  I  will  give  them  to  the  papooses 
to  play  with,"  and  turning  with  a  gesture  of  contempt  he  walked 
back  into  the  crowd  of  Indians. 

But  while  the  preparations  were  being  made  for  the  torture  of 
Panther,  Barton  and  his  friends  had  concluded  their  arrange- 
ments for  their  return  on  the  next  day  to  the  settlements.  But 
little  preparation  was  necessary,  and  the  possession  of  the  horses 
had  obviated  the  greatest  difficulty  in  their  removal.  There  was 
little  or  nothing  to  be  transported,  as  the  Senecas  had  destroyed 
nearly  every  valuable  upon  the  premises. 

Their  arrangements  were  all  made,  and  that  peculiar  and 
natural  solemnity  of  feeling,  which  attends  the  abandonment  of 
a  cherished  home,  laid  waste  and  desolate,  prevented  any  con* 
tinned  conversation. 

"  The  friendly  Indians  will  accompany  us  a  portion  of  the  way, 
I  suppose,"  said  Barton;  "but  only  for  a  few  miles,  as  their 
path  lies  northward,  while  ours  is  more  to  the  eastward.  They 
will,  doubtless,  take  their  prisoner  with  them." 

"  That  would  be  an  useless  trouble,  I  should  think,"  said  Ralph. 
"  It  would  be  better  for  them  to  let  him  go  at  once.  But  per- 
haps, as  a  matter  of  pride,  they  wish  to  display  a  Seneca  chief  in 
their  villages,  as  a  prisoner." 

It  was  at  this  moment,  that  the  shout  was  heard,  which  attended 
the  ebullition  of  anger  on  the  part  of  the  Indians  at  the  con- 
temptuous language  of  Panther.  Each  individual  of  the  party, 
excepting  Ichabod  and  Singing-Bird,  started ; — it  recalled,  for  a 
moment,  with  vivid  distinctness,  the  memory  of  the  perils  from 
which  they  had  just  escaped. 

"  What  is  the  meaning  of  that  shout  ?"  asked  Barton. 

"It  is,  perhaps,  an  attempt  to  terrify  their  prisoner,"  said 
Ralph,  "  or  perhaps  it  may  be,"  and  he  started  at  the  sudden  con- 
jecture, rising  hastily  upon  his  feet,  "  that  they  are  about  to  put 
him  to  torture." 

"  Oh  !  they  will  not  do  that !"  exclaimed  Ralph.  "  It  cannot 
be,  that  Eagle's- Wing  can  imitate  the  cold-blooded  cruelty  of 
panther.     Say  it  is  not  so,  Singing-Bird." 

"  Eagle's-Wing  great  chief,"  said  the  Indian,  quietly.  "  lie 
know  how  to  punish  enemy." 

Ruth  seemed  astonished  by  this  unlooked-for  confirmation  of 
her  fears. 

"  Ralph !  Ichabod !"  said  she, "  prevent  this  murder,  if  possible. 
Do  not  let  such  a  horrid  act  sully  our  last  reoollections  of  thii 
plaoe." 


THZ      FRONTIERSMEN.  151 

Ichabod  bowed  his  head  for  a  moment  with  a  shudder,  and 
then  said: 

"  Miss  Ruth,  all  people  have  their  customs ;  an  Englishman 
shuts  up  his  prisoners  in  old  hulks,  where  they  die  of  foul  a»ir, 
and  filthiness,  and  starvation ;  and  the  most  civilized  people,  will 
punish  their  prisoners  in  some  way ;  and  an  injin  can't  be 
expected  to  be  better  than  those  that  have  some  other  light  than 
the  light  of  Natur'  to  walk  by.  It's  their  way,  Miss  Ruth — it's 
their  way;  and  there's  no  use  trying  to  prevent  it." 

*'  I  will  go,"  she  answered ;  "  I  will  beg  for  his  life ;  perhaps 
I  may  not  plead  in  vain." 

"  Don't  do  so,  Miss  Ruth — it's  no  use.  Their  blood  is  up ;  and 
there  is  no  power  in  this  world  strong  enough  to  control  them, 
but  force,  and  that  we  haven't  got." 

"  But  there  is  a  Power  above  us  and  them,  which  may  touch 
their  hearts.   I  will  go." 

Seeing  that  she  was  determined  to  venture  among  the  savages, 
on  this — as  Ichabod,  as  well  as  the  others  also,  thought — bootless 
errand,  the  whole  party  accompanied  her,  and  they  proceeded 
hastily  towards  the  grove.  As  they  reached  the  place  where  the 
Indians  were  gathered,  they  found  them  busy  in  their  prepara- 
tions. A  large  number  of  pine  knots  had  been  collected,  and  a 
pile  of  pointed  splinters,  the  object  of  which  was  apparent  to  them 
all.  The  Seneca,  fastened  to  the  tree,  was  surveying  the  prepara- 
tions with  a  look  of  indifference  or  contempt ;  but  as  Barton 
and  his  party  came  in  sight,  his  eyes  rolled  over  them  with 
glances  of  uncontrollable  hatred.  Eagle's-Wing  was  quietly 
directing  the  preparations. 

Barton  approached  the  Tuscarora.  "  For  Heaven's  sake,  Eagle's- 
Wing,  what  do  all  these  arrangements  mean  ?  It  cannot  be  that 
you  will  torture  this  Seneca.  Let  him  go,  Eagle's-Wing.  You  have 
done  me  many  a  friendly  deed,  lately — add  this  to  the  num- 
ber." 

"The  hearts  of  the  pale-faces  are  soft,"  said  Eagle's-Wing. 
"  Let  my  father  and  his  friends  go  back  to  their  dwelling.  The 
Seneca  must  die." 

Ralph,  in  turn,  besought  the  Tuscarora  to  desist  from  his  pur- 
pose. He  used  all  the  arguments  which  he  could  summon  to  his 
aid,  growing  out  of  the  present  condition  of  the  Colonies,  and 
their  desire  to  keep  on  peaceful  terms  with  the  hostile  Indians  of 
the  Six  Nations  ;  but  to  no  purpose.  Eagle's- Wing  listened  with 
courtesy,  but  declared  that  the  Seneca  must  die. 

'•  Old  friend,"  said  Ichabod,  "  you'll  give  me  credit  for  under- 
standing Injin  natur'  pretty  well,  and  that  I  never  make  it  a  point 
to  interfere  in  their  lawful  customs  and  amusements ;  but  I  can't 
heip  saying,  now,  that  this  is  a  risky  speculation.  I  never  meant 
to  call  on  you  for  payment  of  any  balance  of  account  between 
US ;  but  there's  no  disguising  that  you  do  owe  a  little  to  me  oo 


162  THE      FRONTIERSMEN. 

the  score  of  having  saved  your  scalp-lock,  ere  now ;  but  give  ma 
that  Seneca,  and  I  will  balance  the  books." 

"I  owe  my  brother  my  life,  and  it  is  his."  said  Eagle's- Wing. 
"  Let  my  brother  take  it,  if  he  will ;  it  is  just.  But  the  Seneca 
shall  go  with  me  into  the  happy  hunting-grounds  of  my  nation. 
He  shall  go  beiore  me  as  my  prisoner." 

"  Let  us  go  back,  Miss  Ruth,"  gaid  Ichabod.  "  These  Injins 
are  perfectly  set  in  their  way.  I  knowed  it  was  of  no  use. 
They  won't  imitate  white  people  in  their  conduct,  any  more  than 
they  will  in  their  clothes." 

At  these  repeated  failures,  it  must  be  confessed  that  Ruth 
almost  despaired  of  success.  Yet  she  could  not  suffer  the  Seneca 
thus  to  be  murdered,  without  making  one  appeal  in  his  behalf. 
Tears  filled  her  eyes  as  she  approached  the  Tuscarora. 

"  EagleVWing,"  said  she,  smiling  through  her  tears,  "you 
have  refused  Panther  to  my  friends,  that  you  might  give  him  to 
me.    Is  it  not  so  ?" 

This  pertinacity  on  the  part  of  the  pale-faces  seemed  partially 
to  irritate  the  Tuscarora ;  but  he  subdued  the  momentary  flash 
of  anger,  and  answered  quietly : 

"  The  hearts  of  the  pale-face  women  are  soft :  they  cannot 
look  on  the  death  of  a  warrior  in  the  midst  of  his  enemies.  Let 
the  pale-face  girl  go  back  with  her  friends." 

"  You  cannot  mean  to  do  this.  Eagle's- Wing — you,  who  have 
been  so  gentle  and  kind  to  us — cannot  do  this  murder." 

"  The  Seneca  must  die,"  was  the  answer. 

"  Is  it  right.  Eagle's- Wing,  to  kill  Panther  thus,  in  cold  blood  ? 
It  is  a  great  crime,  both  by  the  laws  of  men  and  of  God." 

"  Our  traditions  have  not  told  us  so,"  answered  the  Tuscarora. 
"  They  tell  us  that  we  must  do  so,  if  we  wish  to  please  the 
Great  Spirit." 

"  But  have  you  never  heard  of  any  other  tradition  ?  Have 
you  not  heard  the  story  of  the  life  and  death  of  the  Redeemer  of 
the  -world,  and  of  the  truths  that  he  taught  ?  " 

The-  Indian  seemed  struck  with  a  sort  of  consternation,  for  a 
moment.  He  evidently  recollected  the  teaching  of  the  pious 
missionary  of  the  Oneidas  and  Tuscaroras,  who  had  done  so 
much  to  give  the  minds  of  the  Indians  of  those  nations  a  proper 
direction,  just  previous  to  the  Revolutionary  struggle.  After  a 
short  pause,  he  answered : 

"  The  good  missionary  from  the  pale-faces  has  told  us  the  story; 
but  it  was  a  long  while  ago  ;  it  was  before  the  war  between  the 
Colony  men  and  the  Yengeese.  I  have  almost  forgotten  it.  If 
I  was  a  pale-face,  I  should  love  it  very  much.  But  an  Indian 
must  follow  the  traditions  of  his  fathers." 

"  I  know  who  you  mean,  Eagle's- Wing.  It  was  Kirtland  who 
taught  you  that  story.  I  am  sorry  that  you  should  so  soon  have 
forgotten  it.   He  was  a  good  man  and  told  you  the  truth.   Ue  told 


THE      FRONTIERSMEN  163 

yon  that  you  must  not  persecute  your  enemies ;  but  that  you  nuisl 
forgive  them,  and  that  the  Great  Spirit  will  like  you  belter  for  it." 

"How  know  that?"  asked  Eagle's-Wing  abruptl}^,  and  with  a 
kind  of  superstitious  feeling,  that  Ruth  should  be  able  to  repeat 
the  instructions  which,  in  his  ignorance,  he  supposed  she  could 
not  have  understood,  without  having  listened  to  the  missionary, 
herself.  "  IIow  know  that !  That  was  great  many  years  ago, 
when  the  pale-face  girl  was  a  child." 

"  I  know  that  he  told  you  so,"  replied  Ruth,  "  because  he 
must  have  told  you  what  the  new  tradition  was.  He  told  you 
that  the  Redeemer  came  down  from  Heaven,  and  how  he  died 
because  he  loved  all  the  nations  and  people  of  the  world  ;  and 
how  he  told  them  that  they  must  all  love  one  another  like  bro- 
thers. Would  it  not  be  better,  Eagle's-Wing,  if  all  the  pale- 
faces and  all  the  Indians  thought  so  ?" 

The  Tuscarora  cast  down  his  eyes,  while  he  answered :  '*  It 
would  be  better,  if  they  would  think  so  ;  but  they  do  not.  If  the 
pale-faces  do  not,  how  can  the  Indians  think  so  ?" 

''  It  is  only  the  bad  men  among  the  pale-faces  who  think  other- 
wise. There  are  a  great  many  good  men  who  always  act  upon 
this  truth.  If  it  would  be  better  for  everybody  to  follow  this 
teaching,  it  is  a  good  thing  for  those  who  do,  even  if  a  great 
many  do  not.     Is  it  not  so,  Eagle's-Wing  ?" 

Eagle's-Wing  turned  away — his  savage  heart  evidently  touched 
by  this  re-awakening  of  old  recollections  ;  but  in  the  act  of  doing 
so,  his  eyes  fell  upon  the  Seneca,  who  was  surveying  him  and 
Ruth,  with  a  look  of  curious  interest.  The  bitter  taunt  of  Pan- 
ther occurred  to  him.  and  those  cruel  instincts  which  had  been 
nearly  overcome,  were  kindled  again  with  renewed  force.  Turn- 
ing towards  Ruth,  he  coldly  answered  : 

"  It  is  a  good  tradition.  I  will  not  deny  it ;  but  it  is  a  pale-face 
tradition.  The  Great-Teacher  was  not  a  red  man  ;  he  was  a  pale- 
face. The  pale-face  girl  must  go  back  with  her  friends.  The 
Seneca  shall  die." 

The  color  fled  from  the  face  of  Ruth,  and  for  a  moment  she 
looked  as  if  she  would  have  fallen  to  the  ground.  Ralph  was 
springing  forward  to  assist  her,  when  a  new  and  more  heroic 
strength  seemed  to  sustain  and  inspire  her.  Advancing  towards 
Eagle's-Wing,  she  laid  her  hand  upon  his  arm  and  exclaimed — 

"  You  shall  not  do  this  murder,  Eagle's-Wing.  Your  own  heart 
tells  you  that  it  is  wrong.  The  Seneca  is  a  bloody,  guilt}'  man  ; 
but  God — the  same  God  who  looks  down  on  the  pale-face  and 
the  Indian — shall  punish  you.  You  shall  not  do  it.  I  will  keep 
this  great  crime  from  your  soul,  and  you  will  thank  me  for  it, 
some  dsiy.  See  here,  you  shall  see  what  I  will  do ;"  and  she  ran 
to  the  tree  where  Panther  was  confined.  The  Indians  hastened 
forward,  yet  seemingly  without  the  intent  to  resist  her  purpose. 
The  daring  energy  which  inspired  her,  and  the  lofty  look  of  in- 


X64  THI      FB0NTI1.SSM89. 

QOcent  boidness,  awed  them  into  silence.  With  a  rapidity  sb« 
could  not  have  equalled  at  another  time,  she  unfastened  the 
withes  with  which  the  Seneca  was  bound,  and  as  rapidly  returned 
to  the  side  of  Eagle's-Wing.  "  See,"  she  said,  "  he  is  free  !  " 
Again  she  laid  her  hand  upon  the  arm  of  the  Tuscarora,  while 
all  eyes  were  watching  the  motions  of  Panther,  who  seemed  stu- 
pified  with  the  curious  scene.  As  the  withes  fell  at  his  feet,  he 
straightened  his  form,  and  glared  slowly  around  on  the  assembled 
warriors.  For  a  moment  his  eyes  fell  upon  Riith,  with  a  look  of 
awe,  such  as  a  debased  human  creature  might  be  supposed  to  cast 
upon  a  more  exalted  being:  then  slowly,  and  as  if  he  expected 
his  attempt  to  be  resisted,  he  moved  from  the  tree,  yet  with  his 
eyes  firmly  fastened  upon  the  face  of  Eagle's-Wing.  The  latter 
stood  erect,  his  nostrils  dilated,  and  his  eyes  flashing,  as  if  about 
to  spring  upon  the  escaping  prisone  ^et  restrained  by  the  gen- 
tle hand  upon  his  arm,  which,  witi>  .  the  exertion  of  physical 
strength,  seemed  to  bind  him  to  the  ground.  Creeping  as  stealth- 
ily as  the  animal  from  which  he  derived  his  name,  the  Seneca 
still  moved  away,  but  with  his  face  partially  turned  towards  the 
group  which  he  was  leaving.  A  few  moments,  and  he  had  disap- 
peared in  the  forest. 

A  spasmodic  shudder  passed  over  the  frame  of  the  Tuscarora 
chief;  then  he  turned  towards  Ruth,  with  a  smile  upon  his  face 
and  a  tear  in  his  eye,  as  he  said.  "  It  is  well — let  the  Seneca  go.'^ 


CONCLUSION. 

We  have  brought  this  narrative,  relating  to  the  early  history 
of  an  interesting  portion  of  New  York,  nearly  to  a  close ;  and 
all  that  remains,  is  to  give  the  reader  a  brief  account  of  the 
fortunes  of  some  of  the  personages  in  whom  he  is  supposed  to 
have  taken  some  interest. 

After  the  defeat  of  the  Senecas,  Barton  and  his  daughter, 
together  with  Ralph,  Ichabod  and  the  negro,  returned  to  the 
settlements,  where  Barton  finally  concluded  to  remain.  Hia 
advanced  age  prevented  him  from  again  undertaking  to  build 
himself  a  house  in  the  wilderness,  while  another  reason,  perhaps 
still  more  powerful,  forced  him  to  the  same  conclusion. 

He  discovered  th^^t  Ruth,  provided  he  would  give  his  consent 
to  the  arrangement,  which,  under  the  circumstances,  he  could 
aot  refuse,  had  decided  upon  becoming  Mrs.  Ralph  Weston.  That 
event  happened  not  long  after  their  return  to  the  settlements ; 
and  the  old  gentleman  found,  after  the  lapse  of  a  very  few  years, 
that  he  could  not  again  seek  the  wilderness  without  abandoning 
two  little  grand-children  of  whom  he  had  become  very  fond. 
Sambo  remained  with  the  family ;  but  in  the  course  of  a  short 
time,  he  was  offered  his  freedom,  which  he  refused. 


fHI      TBOKTISRSHKV.  i^^ 

Icbabod,  also,  returned  to  the  settlements ;  and  through  the 
assistance  of  his  friend,  the  Captain,  he  was  enabled  to  satisfy 
ihe  rapacious  Mr.  Parsons  for  his  demand  of  £25  7s.  6d.  He 
finally  embarked  in  some  speculation  in  what  were  then  deemed 
western  <  lands,  in  which  it  is  believed  that  he  came  very  near 
making  his  fortune.  But  he  never  mentioned  his  adventures  of 
the  year  1783,  without  a  sigh  over  the  heavy  losses  which  he 
sustained  in  his  factory  and  city-lot  projects. 

As  for  the  Tuscarora  and  his  squaw,  they  returned  to  their 
village,  and  there  remained,  until  the  removal  of  the  Tuscaroras 
to  the  west,  a  few  years  afterwards. 

Of  Guthrie — whose  fate  has  been  left  in  some  little  doubt — 
nothing  certain  was  ever  known.  But  a  few  years  after,  some 
adventurer,  who  supposed  himself  a  pioneer  in  this  new  country, 
discovered  a  human  skeleton  by  the  stump  of  a  tree,  to  which  it 
had  been  apparently  bound,  judging  from  the  remnant  of  a 
strong  cord,  which  was  found  by  its  side.  As  some  portions  of 
the  skeleton  were  found  at  some  distance  from  the  tree,  it  was 
supposed  that  the  unfortunate  man,  ^whoever  he  was,  after 
having  been  confined  to  the  tree,  had  been  devoured  by  wolves. 

Our  tale  is  told ;  and  seventy  years  have  passed  over  its 
scenes  and  actors.  The  forests  have  fallen ;  broad,  green 
meadows,  enriched  with  labor  and  enriching  the  husbandman. 
are  in  their  place ;  an  active,  bustling  village  has  efiaced  all  signs 
of  early  hardship  and  sufiering ;  and,  as  if  changed  like  the 
pictures  in  a  magic  glass,  the  old  scenes  about  which  we  have 
lingered  are  no  more.  Occasionally,  the  children  in  the  village 
gaze,  with  a  mixture  of  fear  and  wonder,  upon  a  wandering 
Oneidea,  as  he  loiters  in  the  streets,  idle  and  drunken — a  vaga- 
bond where  his  fathers  were  lords  and  rulers. 

But,  with  all  the  changes  which  seventy  years  have  produced 
and  notwithstanding  Ichabod's  city  lots  have  been  laid  out  and 
sold,  and  succeeding  speculators  are  still  busy  in  the  same  short- 
handed  means  of  getting  money,  the  woollen  factory  has  never 
been  built.  In  that  respect,  his  dreams  have  never  been  realized. 
Occasionally  some  speculative  Ichabod  has  broached  the  old 
scheme  anew  ;  but  obstacle  upon  obstacle  has  conspired  to  pre- 
vent its  realization  ;  and  although  the  sheep  dot  our  hills,  their 
wool  seeks  a  foreign  market. 

The  pond,  too,  remains ;  but  that  which  was  once  a  sylvan 
lake,  surrounded  with  forests  and  crystalline  in  the  purity  of  its 
waters,  has  yielded  all  of  its  romantic  associations  to  the  practi- 
cal spirit  of  the  age.  It  has  become  a  portion  of  a  canal,  and 
a  teuring-path  has  been  constructed  along  its  eastern  and  south- 
ern shores. 

So  pass  our  dreams ;  the  infancy  of  Nature  has  reached  ita 
age  J  old  fashioned  modes  of  life,  with  their  simplicity  of  mannersi 
are  passing  away  with  our  forests. 


leg  THE      FRONTIERSMBW. 

The  valley  is  still,  as  of  old.  shut  out  from  the  world.  Greal 
thoroughfares  of  travel  are  at  its  either  extremity  ;  but  neither 
across  it  nor  through  it  is  heard  the  rushing  of  the  •'  iron  horse ;" 
still,  as  of  old,  come  trotting  and  jogging  along,  at  morning  and 
at  night,  the  lumbering  coaches,  rocking  like  cradles,  while  the 
weary  traveler  curses  the  fortune  which  compels  him  to  take 
this  antiquated  mode  of  travel.  Four  miles  an  hour— ^^re,  per- 
chance, in  great  emergencies — mish  these  ancient  vehicles ;  and 
therein  only,  perhaps,  we  have  not  degenerated  fro^p  the  sober 
steadiness  of  our  ancestors. 

But  a  newly-directed  energy  is  now  exulting  over  the  prospect 
of  levelling  our  hills  and  elevating  our  valleys,  and  building  a 
path  upon  which  shall  be  heard  the  scream  of  the  locomotive,  and 
the  sweep  of  travel.  City  lots  are  up  ;  New  York  is  small  po- 
tatoes— half-acre  landholders,  issuing  like  the  youth  in  Cole's 
"  Voyage  of  Life,"  from  the  wilderness  of  long  sleepy  years,  and 
guided  by  an  angel  with  money-bags  under  his  wings,  and  with 
a  voice  like  the  ring  of  dollars,  see  castles  m  the  air,  in  the  shapr 
of  depots  and  engine-houses,  settling  dowiu  i^pon  their  preioiMf  I 
khabod  is  alive  »gaiL&! 


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UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA,  BERK[tf- 
Berkeley,  California  94720-6(;j| 


YB  54278 


970.320 


THE  UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY 


MUSICIANS  SAY 


Brings  Pianos 


TONE 

TOUCH 

SCALE 

MARVELLOUS  {  action 

DESIGN 

FINISH 

DURABILITY 


Are 


m 


The  trained  skill,  taste,  and  science  displayed  in  the  manufacture  of  these 
instruments  win  the  universal  admiration  of  musical  artists.  They  have  a  phe- 
nomenal pleasing  quality  of  Tone,  delicate  and  elastic  Touch,  evenly  adjusted 
Scale,  prompt  responding  Action,  artistic  Design,  exquisite  Finish,  and  ex- 
traordinary DuKABiLiTY.    Their  popularity  is  daily  extending. 

A  twenty  page  illustrated  book  for  piano  buyers,  "Points  Pertinent  to 
Pianos  "  and  new  catalogue,  mailed  free. 

BRIQQS  PIANO  CO.,  BOSTON,  MASS. 

IF  "»   'P   <•»   * 


Ed.  Pinaud, 


Sels  Romains 

(Roman  Salts), 

The  New  Smelling  Salts. 

Unlike  any  now  on  the  market,  and  unequaled 
for  Delicacy  of  Odor,  Permanency,  Pungency, 
Elegance. 

They  immediately  change  the  atmosphere  of 
a  sick-room,  refresh  the  patient,  and  remove 
lassitude. 

Useful  for  headache  and  fatigue. 

The  salts  are  cubical,  novel  and  attractive 
ir  -ippearance,  and  the  perfumes  such  as  have 
made  the  name  of  "  Pinaud  "  world-renowned. 


Lavender, 

Rose, 

Bouquet, 

Lilas, 

Jasmia, 

Verveine, 

Heliotrope, 

Royal  Peach, 

Ess.  Bouquet. 

New  York     Importation  Office,  42  EAST  14th  STREET. 


